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DUKE  UNIVERSITY 
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John  L.  Lievsay 


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DAVID 

HUME 


FAMOUS  SCOTS  SERIES 


The  following  Volumes  are  now  ready : — 

THOMAS  CARLYLE.  By  Hector  C.  Macpherson. 
ALLAN  RAMSAY.  By  Oliphant  Smeaton. 

HUGH  MILLER.  By  W.  Keith  Lease. 

JOHN  KNOX.  By  A.  Taylor  Innes. 

ROBERT  BURNS.  By  Gabriel  Setoun. 

THE  BALLADISTS.  By  JOHN  Geddie. 

RICHARD  CAMERON.  By  Professor  Herkless. 

SIR  JAMES  Y.  SIMPSON.  By  Eve  Blantyre  Simpson. 

THOMAS  CHALMERS.  By  Professor  W.  Garden 
Blaikie. 

JAMES  BOSWELL.  By  W.  Keith  Leask. 

TOBIAS  SMOLLETT.  By  OLIPHANT  SMEATON. 
FLETCHER  OF  SALTOUN.  By  G.  W.  T.  Omond. 

THE  BLACKWOOD  GROUP.  By  Sir  George  Douglas. 
NORMAN  MACLEOD.  By  JOHN  Wellwood. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.  By  Professor  Saintsbury. 
KIRKCALDY  OF  GRANGE.  By  LOUIS  A.  Barb£. 
ROBERT  FERGUSSON.  By  A.  B.  Grosart. 

JAMES  THOMSON.  By  William  Bayne. 

MUNGO  PARK.  By  T.  Banks  Maclachlan. 

DAVID  HUME.  By  Professor  Calderwood. 


DAVID 

HUME: 

BY 

HENRY 

CALDERWOOD 


FAMOUS 

•SCOTS* 

•SERIES* 


PUBLISHED  BY  : 
CHARLES  ^ <£3* 
SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
JBim*  NEW  YORK 


V^MZdL. 


PREFACE 


In  the  following  pages  I have  attempted  to  compress  into 
small  compass  an  account  of  the  life  of  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  Scotsmen  of  last  century. 

Notwithstanding  Hume’s  vast  ability  and  many  services, 
his  name  has  hitherto  awakened  the  dislike  of  the  ma- 
jority of  his  fellow-countrymen,  because  of  his  openly 
avowed  scepticism  concerning  view's  reverently  cherished 
by  Christian  men. 

At  this  date,  however,  we  may  claim  to  have  reached 
the  period  when  it  is  possible  to  survey  the  writings  with 
more  of  the  historic  spirit,  or  at  least,  with  that  ‘ freedom 
from  prejudice  ’ for  which  Hume  pleads ; with  enlarged 
views  as  to  liberty  of  thought,  and  with  perhaps  greater 
indifference  to  the  disturbing  influence  of  the  opinions  so 
characteristic  of  the  Historian. 

The  keen  antagonism  of  the  religious  men  of  the  time 
induced  the  country  to  regard  Hume  as  an  ‘ Infidel,’  a 
‘ Philistine,’  and  an  ‘ Arch-Sceptic,’  a good  man  who 
had  gone  astray.  Now,  when  the  enmity  against  him  has 
in  great  measure  become  traditional,  it  seems  possible  to 
place  him  in  a truer  light,  to  shew  that  he  is  not  an 
Infidel,  that  he  scorns  even  the  name  of  Deist,  and  that 
the  man  who  himself  challenged  the  evidence  for  belief  in 
miracles  maintains  [Essays  II.,  sec.  x.,  p.  147]  ‘that  the 


6 


PREFACE 


Christian  religion  not  only  was  at  first  attended  with 
miracles,  but  even  at  this  day  cannot  be  believed  by  any 
reasonable  person  without  one.’ 

So  readers  may  be  willing  to  consider  afresh  the 
scepticism  and  the  religious  faith ; and  they  may  even 
be  able  to  find,  in  Hume,  a witness  for  Christianity 
whose  testimony  is  in  some  respects  the  more  valuable 
since  beset  with  so  many  and  such  grave  doubts.  Going 
further  than  this,  it  is  probable  that  a renewed  study  of 
Hume’s  writings  may  lead  us  to  a fairer  interpretation  of 
the  attitude  of  those,  in  our  own  day,  whose  avowed 
doubts  have  induced  earnest  men  to  classify  them  amongst 
the  irreligious. 

[Note. — At  the  time  of  Professor  Calderwood’s  death,  the  MS. 
for  this  volume  was  all  but  complete,  and  it  has  been  printed  as  it 
was  left  by  him. 

Unfortunately,  however,  only  a rough  shorthand  draft  of  the  preface 
had  been  drawn  up,  and,  while  every  effort  has  been  made  to  convey 
the  thoughts  expressed,  I am  not  certain  that  the  wording  is  in  strict 
accord  with  the  author’s  intention.  W.L.C.] 


Edinburgh,  February  1898. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

Early  Life  .......  9 

CHAPTER  II 

Search  for  a Vocation  . . . . .17 

CHAPTER  III 

Hume  and  his  Surroundings  . . . .24 

CHAPTER  IV 

Hume  as  a Philosopher — his  Philosophy  of  Under- 


standing . . . . . -33 

CHAPTER  V 

Hume  as  Historian  . . . . . *65 

CHAPTER  VI 

Hume  in  the  Government  Service  . . .80 

CHAPTER  VII 

Hume’s  Attitude  as  to  Religion  . , , .91 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Hume  among  his  Friends  . . , , >127 


DAVID  HUME 


CHAPTER  I 

EARLY  LIFE 

David  Hume  was  born  in  Edinburgh  on  the  26th  of 
April  17 1 1 (old  style).  The  house  of  his  birth  is  un- 
known, but  his  father  records  that  he  was  born  ‘ within 
the  Tron  Parish,’  then  in  the  midst  of  the  city.  His 
inheritance  was  a favoured  one.  He  was  a healthy 
child,  of  a happy  family,  the  home  being  in  a beautiful 
district  of  Berwickshire.  He  had  the  companionship 
of  a brother  and  sister,  was  in  the  midst  of  home 
comforts,  and  he  had  around  the  house,  with  its  park, 
its  trees,  and  its  banks  sloping  down  to  the  Whitadder, 
all  facilities  a boy  can  have  for  the  frolics  of  child- 
hood, and  for  experiencing  the  stimulating  influences 
of  nature. 

His  father,  Joseph  Hume  of  Ninewells,  which  is  near  by 
Chirnside,  was  a member  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates, 
who,  however,  did  not  practise  at  the  Bar,  but  led  the  life 
of  a country  gentleman,  dwelling  constantly  in  the  midst  of 
his  family.  David’s  mother  was  a daughter  of  Sir  David 
Falconer  of  Newton,  Lord  President  of  the  Court  of 
Session,  1682-1685.  Both  of  David  Hume’s  parents 


IO 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


were  thus  in  the  midst  of  associations  of  the  legal 
profession,  and  they  had  free  access  to  the  literary  life  of 
Edinburgh. 

The  Humes  of  Ninewells  were  a remote  branch  of  the 
family  of  Lord  Home  of  Dunglas.  In  Drummond’s 
Histories  of  Noble  British  Families  * the  Humes  of 
Ninewells  are  placed  along  with  the  Dunbars  and 
Dundases  as  belonging  to  the  same  stock  as  the  Earls 
of  Home.  The  name  ‘ Hume  ’ is  variously  written  in 
the  old  records — Hwme,  Huyme,  Horn,  and  Home.  Our 
philosopher  stuck  to  ‘ Hume,’  maintaining  it  to  be  the 
correct  form. 

In  Drummond’s  work  a drawing  of  Ninewells  is  given, 
which  shows  a house  of  three  storeys  and  attic,  f The 
front  door  is  entered  by  steps,  with  an  iron  hand-rail  on 
both  sides.  The  ground  floor  is  sunk  below  the  level 
of  the  front  steps,  but  the  slope  of  the  bank  towards 
the  Whitadder  is  such  that  this  storey  must  have  appeared 
in  the  rear  completely  above  ground.  The  old  house  is  a 
substantial  country  structure,  after  the  manner  of  lairds’ 
houses  common  over  the  south  of  Scotland.  The  present 
house  was  built  in  1838. 

As  soon  as  the  family  were  ready,  after  the  birth  of 
David,  for  the  long  journey,  they  returned  to  their  country 
mansion,  bringing  to  their  home  the  new  arrival,  a child 
of  marked  individuality,  who  was  afterwards  to  make  a stir 
in  the  world.  Ninewells  was  the  scene  of  David  Hume’s 
early  training,  and  to  this  quiet  country  dwelling  he 
returned  again  and  again  in  subsequent  life,  finding  its 

* Pickering,  1846,  vol.  ii.,  p.  27. 
t See  also  Chambers’  Book  of  Days , April  26. 


DAVID  HUME 


ii 


retirement  favourable  to  the  abstract  thought  and  the 
historical  studies  in  which  he  delighted. 

A visit  to  Ninewells  explains  this  attraction,  for  it 
presents  a typical  piece  of  quiet  lowland  scenery.  It  is 
reached  by  rail,  on  the  branch  line  from  Reston  to  Duns. 
Chirnside  is  about  a mile  from  the  station  bearing  its 
name.  On  approaching  the  village  its  houses  are  seen  in 
two  long  lines  stretching  over  the  ridge  of  a steep  hill,  on 
the  road  to  Ayton  and  Eyemouth.  Those  who  dwell  on 
the  height  have  a splendid  view  across  the  Whitadder, 
over  miles  of  country,  closed  in  by  * Cheviot’s  mountains 
lone,’  a famous  portion  of  the  Scottish  borders.  Before 
entering  the  village  the  road  to  Berwick-on-Tweed,  which 
is  only  about  nine  miles  distant,  passes  off  to  the  right. 
Hume  was  accustomed  to  head  his  letters,  ‘Ninewells,  near 
Berwick.’  On  the  first  bend  along  this  road  Ninewells 
comes  into  view.  From  the  road  there  is  an  easy  descent 
towards  the  plateau  on  which  the  new  house  stands.  In 
passing  round  the  present  house  it  is  seen  that  terraces 
have  been  formed  overlooking  the  Whitadder.  These  are 
obviously  accompaniments  of  the  modern  house,  suggesting 
that  in  the  surroundings  familiar  to  David  Hume  a more 
gradual  declivity  led  the  boys  to  the  Whitadder,  a stream 
greatly  esteemed  by  anglers  in  bygone  times.  ‘ Nine- 
wells ’ has  its  name  from  a series  of  springs  a little  above 
the  house,  forming  a burn  which  runs  to  the  Whitadder. 
The  only  feature  of  the  olden  times  is  found  in  the 
offices,  built  to  the  west,  constituting  three  sides  of  a 
square.  The  steps  to  the  coachman’s  house  are  hollowed 
in  the  middle,  and  an  old  stone  vase,  set  over  the  water 
trough,  bears  tokens  of  having  come  from  the  old  mansion 


12 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


house.  Around  these  offices  David  must  often  have 
shared  in  sport  when  fun  ran  high. 

Few  particulars  as  to  the  early  life  of  David  Hume  are 
left  on  record.  He  early  suffered  by  the  loss  of  his 
father,  who  having  died  when  he  was  still  an  infant,  had 
not  the  opportunity  of  aiding  in  the  mental  development 
of  his  youngest  child.  The  mother  became  the  sole  ruler 
of  the  family,  and  lived  not  only  to  train  all  her  children, 
but  to  witness  the  literary  success  of  her  youngest  boy. 
She  was  devoted  to  the  welfare  of  her  children.  In  My 
Own  Life , written  by  David  Hume  when  he  was  sixty-five 
years  of  age,  he  describes  his  mother  as  ‘ a woman  of 
singular  merit,  who,  though  young  and  handsome, 
devoted  herself  entirely  to  the  rearing  and  educating  of 
her  children.’  That  she  gained  a large  influence  over 
them  is  certain.  We  cannot  determine  what  was  the 
debt  of  obligation  which  David  owed  to  his  mother, 
but,  without  doubt,  it  was  a heavy  one.  Before  her 
death  occurred  he  was  in  his  thirty-eighth  year  and 
widely  known  in  the  literary  world.  When  the  announce- 
ment of  her  decease  reached  him  in  London,  the  Hon.  Mr 
Boyle  tells  that  when  he  entered  Hume’s  room  ‘ he  found 
him  in  the  deepest  affliction  and  in  a flood  of  tears.’ 
These  were  the  tokens  of  the  sacred  regard  he  cherished 
for  her  memory,  and  of  his  consciousness  of  the  profound 
influence  she  had  exerted  over  his  life. 

One  record  lingers,  which,  if  it  be  trustworthy,  gives  us 
a glimpse  into  boyhood’s  years,  and  shows  his  mother’s 
judgment  of  her  younger  son.  ‘ Oor  Davie  is  a fine, 
gude-natured  crater,  but  uncommon  wake-minded.’  This 
is  delightful ; it  hardly  could  be  an  invention.  It  is, 


DAVID  HUME 


13 


however,  perplexing  to  Huxley,*'  as,  indeed,  it  must  be  to 
those  who  are  strangers  to  our  vernacular.  Hill  Burton 
is  hardly  more  successful,  however,  in  supposing  that  it 
resulted  from  observation  and  his  phlegmatic  disposition 
{Life,  I.,  294.)  How  could  his  mother  attribute  weak- 
ness to  a son  who  was  ‘ an  intellectual  athlete  ? ’ This 
is  Huxley’s  question.  Let  a Scotchman  consider  in 
what  sense  a Scotch  mother  would  make  such  an 
admission.  If  Huxley  had  lived  in  her  day,  and  said 
to  her  what  he  has  written,  what  amusement,  indigna- 
tion, and  then  amazement  would  have  swept  through 
her  mind  as  she  heard  his  note  of  bewilderment. 
Imagine  Davie’s  questioning  and  doubting  when  others 
had  no  doubt,  and  it  will  appear  in  no  way  unnatural 
that  she  should  consider  her  boy  ‘fashed  wi’  a wake- 
ness.’  It  is  undesignedly  suggestive  that  this  story  seems 
to  Burton  appropriately  introduced  in  relation  with  the 
mother’s  death  when  Hume  is  speaking  of  his  religious 
opinions  (vol.  i.,  294).  Go  back  to  his  boyhood  days. 
Imagine  the  childish  chatter  of  her  Benjamin,  such  as 
would  never  cross  the  lips  of  John  or  of  his  sister.  In 
this,  I fancy,  we  find  the  occasion  for  her  remark  on  his 
‘misguided’  queries.  A mother’s  affectionate  interest  is 
here  even  when  she  notes  the  apparently  senseless  character 
of  many  of  his  questions.  That  John  kept  in  the  beaten  track 
was  to  her  no  proof  of  intellectual  force.  But  Davie  had 
quite  distinguishing  marks.  He  was  ‘ a rale  gude-hearted 
crater  ; ’ this  a mother  could  appreciate,  and  all  friends  of 
his  later  life  recognised  it ; and  yet  he  was  but  * uncommon 
wake-minded,’  as  witness  his  questions  flying  around  a 
* Hume,  p.  2. 


14 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


mother’s  ears,  and  needing  some  kind  of  answer,  though 
hardly  deserving  any.  Those  child  utterances,  which 
seem  weak  when  first  heard,  often  testify  to  a direction  of 
thought  not  common  in  child  life.  This  distinction  is 
aptly  put  by  Rousseau,  who  says,  ‘ Nothing  is  more  difficult 
than  to  distinguish  in  infancy  real  stupidity  from  that 
apparent  and  deceptive  stupidity  which  is  the  indication 
of  strong  characters  ’ (Rousseau’s  Emile , Payne’s  Transl., 
p.  67).  These  utterances  are  seemingly  too  strong 
to  be  attributed  to  a child.  Hume’s  mother  marked 
the  uncommon,  and,  not  unnaturally,  credited  it  to 
his  ‘ wakeness.’  She  would  have  been  startled,  pro- 
bably irritated,  had  she  been  told  that  she  meant  to 
suggest  ‘stupidity’  as  characteristic  of  her  Davie,  even 
when  his  talk  showed  a disregard  of  common  sense.  His 
was  an  uncommon  weakness,  associated  with  uncommon 
acuteness. 

Hume’s  mother  was  a woman  of  penetration.  How 
David  appreciated  her  devotion  we  have  seen,  and  his 
words  tell  us  how  much  her  children  had  recognised  her 
ability,  as  well  as  her  affection.  Mr  Burton  gives  us  this 
description  of  her.  ‘ Mrs  Hume  was  evidently  an  accom- 
plished woman,  worthy  of  the  sympathy  and  respect  of  her 
distinguished  son,  and  could  not  have  failed  to  see  and  to 
appreciate  from  its  earliest  dawnings  the  originality  and 
power  of  his  intellect.  Her  portrait,  which  I have  seen, 
represents  a thin  but  pleasing  countenance,  expressive  of 
great  intellectual  acuteness’  (Life  of  Hume,  I.,  p.  294). 

David  Hume  owed  a large  part  of  his  education  to  his 
mother.  Her  power  shines  through  his.  During  his 
school  training  he  won  no  special  distinction.  His  ability 


DAVID  HUME 


was  not  of  the  kind  that  shines  in  the  routine  of  school 
work.  His  progress  and  his  promise  were,  however, 
undoubted.  He  was  sent  too  early  to  the  University  of 
Edinburgh  to  reap  the  full  advantage  of  academic  study. 
The  disadvantage  of  this  was  great,  but  his  was  not  a 
mind  to  be  led  by  teachers,  even  in  philosophy,  however 
much  he  might  have  gained  by  academic  discipline.  Even 
at  sixteen  years  of  age  * he  gives  evidence  of  a penetration 
and  acuteness  of  thought  which  tell  of  the  influence  of 
philosophy  in  his  early  training — his  mother’s  philosophy 
certainly,  with  as  much  of  academic  influence  as  he  had 
received.  This  freely  flowing  letter  is  a precious  bit  of 
self-revelation.  ‘ I am  entirely  confined  to  myself  and 
library  since  we  parted. 

Ea  sola  voluptas 
Solamenque  mail. 

And  indeed  to  me  they  are  not  a small  one ; for  I take 
no  more  of  them  than  I please ; for  I hate  task-reading, 
and  I diversify  them  at  pleasure — sometimes  a philosopher, 
sometimes  a poet — which  change  is  not  unpleasant  nor 
disserviceable  neither.  . . . The  philosopher’s  wise  man, 
and  the  poet’s  husbandman  agree  in  peace  of  mind,  in  a 
liberty  and  independency  on  fortune,  and  contempt  of 
riches,  power,  and  glory.  Everything  is  placid  and  quiet 
in  both ; nothing  perturbed  or  disordered.  . . . My 
peace  of  mind  is  not  sufficiently  confirmed  by  philosophy 
to  withstand  the  blows  of  fortune.  This  greatness,  eleva- 
tion of  soul  is  to  be  found  only  in  study  and  contempla- 
tion— this  can  alone  teach  us  to  look  down  on  human 

* Witness  the  letter  to  Michael  Ramsay,  dated  July  4,  1727,  Hill 
Burton’s  Life , I.,  p.  12. 


i6 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


accidents.  You  must  allow  me  to  talk  thus,  like  a 
philosopher ; ’tis  a subject  I think  much  on,  and  could 
talk  all  day  long  of.  But  I know  I must  not  trouble  you. 
Wherefore  I wisely  practise  my  rules,  which  prescribe  to 
check  our  appetite  ; and,  for  a mortification,  shall  descend 
from  these  superior  regions  to  low  and  ordinary  life  ; and 
so  far  as  to  tell  you  that  John  has  bought  a horse ; he 
thinks  it  neither  cheap  nor  dear.  It  cost  six  guineas.’ 


CHAPTER  II 

SEARCH  FOR  A VOCATION 

For  a young  man  of  David  Hume’s  individuality,  the 
search  for  a vocation  was  a perplexity.  He  was  not  made 
for  the  common  work  of  life  ; interest  in  questions  of 
abstract  thought  swayed  his  mind,  practically  unfitting 
him  for  ordinary  occupations.  He  desired  above  all 
things  the  life  of  a student ; but  he  tells  us  of  the  diffi- 
culties in  his  way  (My  Ow?i  Life).  He  was  a younger  son 
in  a family  not  rich  ; his  brother  being  destined  to  become 
sole  proprietor  of  Ninewells.  ‘ My  very  slender  fortune 
being  unsuitable  to  this  plan  of  life,  and  my  health  being 
a little  broken  by  my  ardent  application,  I was  tempted, 
or  rather  forced,  to  make  a very  feeble  trial  for  entering  a 
more  active  scene  of  life.’  A few  sentences  from  his 
‘ letter  to  a physician,’  when  seeking  guidance  as  to  health, 
will  show  the  man  we  have  before  us.  There  were,  how- 
ever, strong  adverse  forces  within  his  own  nature. 

‘From  my  earliest  infancy  I found  always  a strong  in- 
clination to  books  and  letters.  As  our  college  education  in 
Scotland,  extending  little  further  than  the  languages,  ends 
commonly  when  we  are  about  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of 
age,  I was  after  that  left  to  my  own  choice  in  my  reading, 
and  found  it  incline  me  equally  to  books  of  reasoning 
and  philosophy,  and  to  poetry  and  the  polite  authors.  . . . 

B *7 


i8 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Upon  examination  of  these,  I found  a certain  boldness  of 
temper  growing  in  me,  which  was  not  inclined  to  submit 
to  any  authority  in  these  subjects,  but  led  me  to  seek  out 
some  new  medium,  by  which  truth  might  be  established. 
After  much  study  and  reflection  on  this,  at  least,  when  I 
was  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  there  seemed  to  be  opened 
up  to  me  a new  scene  of  thought  which  transported  me 
beyond  measure,  and  made  me,  with  an  ardour  natural  to 
young  men,  throw  up  every  other  pleasure  or  business 
to  apply  entirely  to  it  ’ (letter  to  a physician,  Burton’s 
Life,  I.,  p.  31).  In  this  the  inner  life  of  David  Hume  is 
disclosed.  Another  thing,  however,  is  needed  to  complete 
the  view.  He  is  with  the  full  ardour  of  his  being  a man 
of  society.  He  delights  in  the  companionship  of  his 
fellows,  works  surely  into  the  intimacy  of  close  friendship, 
and  is  ever  ready  for  rippling,  glancing  humour,  giving  and 
receiving  electric  impulse  from  casual  acquaintance.  These 
features  are  not  commonly  associated,  but  they  were 
united  in  him.  There  are  two  natures  in  the  man,  two 
lives  within  this  one  life  ; the  inner,  that  of  the  abstract 
thinker  living  within  a charmed  circle  where  he  does  not 
meet  friends,  save  one  or  two,  and  where  he  cultivates 
an  independence  that  owns  no  authority  ; and  the  outer  life 
of  the  man  who  is  free  of  spirit,  ready  for  all  occurrences, 
and  given  to  a playfulness  of  disposition,  and  even  joviality, 
which  to  most  onlookers  must  seem  inconsistent  with  the 
high  philosophic  gift.  Yet  these  two  natures  are  indis- 
solubly united — they  are  constantly  appearing  in  parallel 
relations  as  if  they  were  distinct.  Together  they  consti- 
tute a nature  rarely  met  with.  It  were  easy,  looking  now 
at  the  one  feature,  now  at  the  other,  to  bring  home  a 


DAVID  HUME 


19 


charge  of  inconsistency.  In  a sense,  he  is  inconsistently 
a thinker  who  scorns  the  ordinary  levels  of  thought ; a 
humorist  who  revels  in  the  pleasures  of  the  passing  hour 
as  if  life  were  a play.  These  apparently  contradictory 
features  are  as  prominent  as  they  have  ever  appeared  in 
any  human  life — together  they  constitute  the  actual  David 
Hume — philosopher  and  man  of  the  world.  In  one 
way  he  is  remote  from  all  common  interests ; in  another 
he  is  in  the  heart  of  them  all.  Mainly,  he  is  borne 
onward  by  the  force  of  the  inner  impulse  which  is  that  of 
a profound  philosophic  thinker  ; nevertheless,  you  do  not 
know  the  man,  if  you  do  not  discover  the  irrepressible 
humorist.  The  chief  work  of  his  life  is  beyond  the  obser- 
vation of  others — it  can  be  known  only  through  his  books  ; 
hardly  at  all  through  his  conversation  ; but  in  his  relaxa- 
tion he  may  be  known  to  all,  for  he  gravitates  to  centres 
where  men  and  women  enjoy  pleasant  society,  where  con- 
verse is  free,  and  all  diversities  of  feeling  find  ready 
response.  There  is  nothing  more  natural  for  him  than  to 
enumerate  these  as  ‘ the  two  greatest  and  purest  pleasures 
of  human  life,  study  and  society  ’ (Intro,  to  the  Dialogues 
Concerning  Natural  Religion ). 

To  such  a man  as  David  Hume  the  inner  bias  of  life 
must  involve  him  in  serious  difficulties  when  he  attempts 
a practical  view  of  his  position — when  he  feels  ‘ forced,’ 
as  he  tells  us  in  roundabout  fashion  natural  in  the  circum- 
stances, ‘ to  make  a very  feeble  trial  for  entering  on  a 
more  active  scene  of  life.’  These  are  the  words  of  a man 
who  already  feels  himself  unequal  to  the  task.  Not  being 
a man  of  independent  means,  he  must  seek  means  of  sup- 
port— but  where,  and  how  ? The  need  for  asking  and 


20 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


answering  this  brought  him  into  the  most  serious  diffi- 
culties, and  involved  him  in  distressing  failures.  How 
could  such  a man  settle  down  to  be  a successful  profes- 
sional man  or  an  enterprising  man  of  business  ? 

Here  is  the  beginning  of  his  trouble,  as  recalled  late 
in  life : — ‘ My  studious  disposition,  my  sobriety,  and  my 
industry,  gave  my  family  the  notion  that  the  law  was  a 
proper  profession  for  me;  but  I felt  an  insurmountable 
aversion  to  everything  but  the  pursuits  of  philosophy  and 
general  learning  ’ {My  Oiun  Life).  In  his  ‘ letter  to  a 
physician,’  written  when  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  diffi- 
culties, at  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  says,  ‘The  law,  which 
was  the  business  I designed  to  follow,  appeared  nauseous 
to  me.’  The  technicalities  of  legal  practice  had  no 
attraction  for  the  speculative  thinker. 

From  that,  he  turns  to  business.  There  is  an  incon- 
gruity in  the  fancy  that  he  could  be  placed  in  harness,  to 
serve  a master  whose  orders  should  be  law.  The  urgent 
need  for  securing  income  in  some  way  is  made  manifest 
by  the  contemplation  of  this  alternative.  ‘In  1734,  I 
went  to  Bristol  with  some  recommendations  to  eminent 
merchants,  but  in  a few  months  found  that  scene  totally 
unsuitable  to  me.’  This  short  summary  disposes  of  the 
whole  venture.  Truly  ‘a  very  feeble  trial  for  entering  on 
a more  active  scene  of  life,’  from  one  who  had  ‘ recom- 
mendation to  a considerable  trader.’ 

As  if  to  dispose  of  all  his  uncertainties,  Hume  breaks 
away  from  Scotland,  as  well  as  from  Bristol,  and  goes  off 
to  France  to  prosecute  his  studies.  No  clear  light  is 
thrown  on  this  resolve,  or  on  the  reasons  for  his  choice 
of  place.  Doubtless,  the  fame  of  the  Encyclopaedists  had 


DAVID  HUME 


21 


some  attraction ; but  he  does  not  go  to  seek  their  guid- 
ance, nor  even  to  avail  himself  of  the  special  advantages 
connected  with  the  great  educational  institutions  of  Paris. 
What  he  intends  when  he  speaks  of  ‘ studies,’  is  the  unre- 
strained pursuit  of  his  own  speculations.  He  goes  to 
follow  out  his  studies  ‘ in  a country  retreat.’  He  found 
such  a retreat,  first  at  Rheims,  and  afterwards  at  La 
Fleche,  in  Anjou — odd  retreat  to  be  chosen  by  Hume, 
in  the  Jesuits’  College,  and  that,  too,  in  which  Descartes 
had  been  a scholar.  He  was  twenty-three  years  of  age ; 
and  he  has  made  his  resolve  with  unwavering  determina- 
tion. Here  is  the  plan  he  has  sketched.  * I resolved  to 
make  a very  rigid  frugality  supply  my  deficiency,  to  main- 
tain unimpaired  my  independency,  and  to  regard  every 
object  as  contemptible  except  the  improvement  of  my 
talents  in  literature  ’ (My  Own  Life). 

In  frugality  he  was  a genuine  Scot,  able  to  make  little  go 
a long  way ; contented  when  he  fared  on  the  plainest,  for 
intellectual  interests  absorbed  him.  He  looked  back  with 
special  interest  on  that  period  of  philosophic  effort.  He 
passed  ‘ three  years  very  agreeably  in  that  country.’  ‘ I 
there  laid  that  plan  of  life  which  I have  steadily  and 
successfully  pursued.’  During  this  period,  he  says,  ‘ I 
composed  my  Treatise  of  Human  Nature ,’ — a wonderful 
achievement  for  so  young  a man. 

In  1737  he  returned  to  London.  Being  again  on 
British  soil,  with  his  urgent  work  accomplished,  he  writes 
thus  to  Henry  Home  (Lord  Kames), — ‘ I have  a great 
inclination  to  go  down  to  Scotland  this  spring,  to  see 
my  friends  and  have  your  advice  concerning  my  philo- 
sophical discoveries ; but  cannot  overcome  a certain 


22 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


shamefacedness  I have  to  appear  among  you,  at  my 
years,  without  having  got  a settlement,  or  so  much  as 
attempted  any  ’ (Burton’s  Life , I.,  p.  63).  He  had  the 
Treatise  with  him  in  finished  form.  By  the  end  of 
1738  it  was  published.  This  work  was  destined  to 
exert  great  influence  in  the  history  of  philosophic  thought. 
There  was  no  immediate  sign  of  this  at  first.  He  him- 
self reports : — ‘ It  fell  dead-born  from  the  press.’  Slight 
as  was  the  impression  made  at  its  first  appearance,  it  was 
destined  to  awaken  the  keenest  interest  of  the  thinkers  of 
the  day.  It  was  an  exposition  of  Empiricism,  leading  to 
Scepticism  as  its  logical  outcome,  and  was,  in  effect,  a 
challenge  to  Philosophy  to  produce  a doctrine  of  Certainty. 
Sceptical  thought  had  for  him  a fascination.  The  words 
of  Cleanthes  to  Philo  apply  most  aptly  to  their  author, — 
‘ Of  all  men  living,  the  task  which  you  have  undertaken, 
of  raising  doubts  and  objections,  suits  you  best,  and  seems 
in  a manner  natural  and  unavoidable  to  you  ’ (. Dialg .,  p. 
81). 

This  first  literary  effort,  published  when  he  was  only 
twenty-eight,  marked  him  out  as  a distinguished  thinker, 
an  adept  in  abstract  thought,  consistent  to  a degree,  con- 
tent with  uncertainty  where  certainty  seemed  unattainable 
— conspicuously  the  ‘ speculative  sceptic,’  with  ‘ a certain 
boldness  of  temper  growing  in  him;  not  inclined  to  submit 
to  any  authority.’  Believing  firmly  in  the  certainties,  but 
with  a critical  and  sceptical  bias,  he  seemed  to  meet  the 
demands  of  philosophy  for  setting  forth  the  vast  range  of 
uncertainties  with  which  our  intelligence  is  surrounded. 
It  was  in  this  wide  region  he  hoped  to  make  ‘discoveries’ 
which  the  world  would  acknowledge.  In  his  profound 


DAVID  HUME 


*3 


reflection,  he  was  first  stimulated,  and  next  hampered,  by 
the  inadequate  philosophy  of  the  times.  That  his  dis- 
cussions included,  so  largely  as  they  did,  sceptical  issues, 
was  the  fact  which  gave  to  them  their  power  to  stimulate 
later  thought. 


CHAPTER  III 


HUME  AND  HIS  SURROUNDINGS 

Hume  had  taken  his  place  in  the  literature  of  his  country 
and  of  the  world.  He  himself,  however,  was  depressed 
with  sense  of  failure,  for  he  says,  ‘ Never  was  literary 
attempt  more  unfortunate  than  my  Treatise  of  Human 
Nature .’  He  felt  disappointed  that  it  did  not  even  ‘ excite 
a murmur  among  the  zealots.’  His  power  had  been  con- 
centrated to  the  utmost,  but  renown  did  not  come  to  him, 
as  he  had  anticipated.  What  he  could  do  in  philosophic 
thought  was  accomplished,  and  he  was  convinced  that  the 
writing  was  not  of  slight  significance;  but  the  reading 
public  did  not  know  what  had  been  done — his  contribu- 
tion was  not  of  the  character  to  attract  readers.  He  was 
dispirited,  in  consequence,  but  he  was  not  turned  aside 
from  his  ‘plan  of  life.’  He  says,  ‘In  the  end  of  1738,  I 
published  my  treatise,  and  immediately  went  down  to  my 
mother  and  my  brother,  who  lived  at  his  country  house.’ 
Here  the  thinker  is  once  more  lost  to  view,  concentrating 
on  fresh  effort,  of  which  the  world  was  to  learn  by-and-by. 
‘ Being  naturally  of  a cheerful  and  sanguine  temper,’  he 
adds,  ‘ I very  soon  recovered  the  blow,  and  prosecuted, 
with  great  ardour,  my  studies  in  the  country.’ 

Henceforth,  this  retired  student  has  his  place  among 
the  literary  men  of  Scotland.  He  is  a man  of  massive 
24 


DAVID  HUME 


25 


figure,  stout  in  build,  with  rounded,  ruddy  countenance, 
not  of  marked  expression — this  lack  being  often  remarked 
upon  when  he  becomes  a conspicuous  figure  in  the  society 
of  Paris.  The  lack  described  was,  in  part,  the  effect  of 
the  concentrated  abstraction  which  engrossed  his  life 
through  long  periods  of  work.  In  other  moods,  over- 
flowing humour  shines  through  the  placid  countenance. 
Reminiscences  and  portraits  support  these  diverse  repre- 
sentations. A portrait  of  him  in  early  life,  in  possession 
of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  shews  him  in  a less 
matured  stage  than  portraits  more  familiar.  In  the 
National  Gallery  of  Scotland  there  is  a good  picture  of 
him,  in  scarlet  tunic,  such  as  he  donned  when  Secretary 
of  the  Military  Legation  at  Vienna  and  Turin — a red  coat 
which,  report  says,  did  not  give  him  the  approved  military 
air.  Over  against  this  picture  in  the  Scottish  Gallery  is 
hung  a portrait  of  Rousseau,  enabling  visitors  to  compare 
the  faces  of  these  literary  celebrities,  once  fast  friends, 
afterwards  bitter  foes.  Of  the  two  portraits  in  Hill 
Burton’s  Life , that  in  the  first  volume  is  from  the  me- 
dallion by  Tassie — a thoughtful,  rather  heavy,  face,  with 
wig  obscuring  the  individuality  of  the  subject.  That  in  the 
second  volume  is  from  a bust,  and  is  somewhat  startling 
at  first.  It  must  be  at  fault  in  its  proportions ; but  it 
presents  a strong  face,  exhibiting  much  more  of  the  re- 
cognised ability  of  the  philosopher  than  other  portraits  do. 
It  suggests  the  intellectual  power  and  the  commanding 
force  which  were  noted  characteristics  of  the  man. 

In  nature,  in  habits,  and  in  all  mental  associations, 
Hume  was  intensely  Scotch.  Indeed,  the  strength  of 
national  bias,  intensified  by  existing  jealousies  between 


26 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


the  united  countries,  tempted  even  a man  of  philo- 
sophic spirit  to  cherish  antagonism  to  the  English 
people  and  to  English  ways,  the  unrestrained  expression 
of  which  surprises  us  at  this  distance  of  time  (Hill, 
Letters , p.  56-64).  He  found  delight  in  the  rural  life 
of  Berwickshire,  and  took  kindly  to  the  vernacular 
heard  all  around,  but  was  specially  attracted  to  the 
literary  circles  of  the  Scottish  capital.  He  was  happy  in 
the  practice  of  economy — doing  his  work  bravely  as  many 
had  done  before  him,  ‘ A man  of  punctual  habits,  and  of 
unwearied  industry.’  He  was  proud  of  Scotland  as  ‘ a 
country  where  the  avenues  to  learning  are  easy.’  To  his 
friend,  Michael  Ramsay,  the  philosopher  thus  describes 
his  position  at  forty  years  of  age : — ‘ While  interest 
remains  as  at  present,  I have  ^50  a year,  a hundred 
pounds’  worth  of  books,  great  store  of  linens  and  fine 
clothes,  and  near  /100  in  my  pocket;  along  with  order, 
frugality,  a strong  spirit  of  independency,  good  health,  a 
contented  humour,  and  an  unabating  love  of  study.  In 
these  circumstances  I must  esteem  myself  one  of  the 
happy  and  fortunate;  and  so  far  from  being  willing  to 
draw  my  ticket  over  again  in  the  lottery  of  life,  there  are 
very  few  prizes  with  which  I would  make  an  exchange  ’ 
(Hill  Burton,  I.,  342). 

In  conversation,  his  native  Doric  was  marked,  so  that 
‘the  broadest  Scotch  accent’  is  attributed  to  him.  So 
attached  was  he  to  his  native  land  that  we  find  him 
expressing  his  determination  ‘ never  more  to  set  his  foot 
out  of  it.’  When  writing  for  the  press,  it  continued  matter 
of  serious  trouble  to  him  that  his  Scotticisms  often  were 
allowed  to  pass  unchecked.  In  this  matter  he  owns  his 


DAVID  HUME 


27 


dependence  on  Strahan,  his  publisher.  Thus  he  says, 

‘ If  you  have  leisure  to  peruse  the  sheets,  and  to  mark 
on  the  margin  any  corrections  that  occur  to  you,  it  will 
be  an  addition  to  the  many  obligations  of  the  same  kind 
I owe  to  you’  (. Letters  to  Strahan , p.  213).  For  the  same 
reason,  he  seeks  to  have  the  help  of  Mallet  ( lb .,  p.  7),  and 
in  writing  to  Wilkes,  he  says — ‘Notwithstanding  all  the 
pains  I have  taken  in  the  study  of  the  English  language,  I 
am  still  jealous  of  my  pen  ’ {Lb.,  p.  8). 

In  some  of  his  familiar  letters  written  to  intimate  friends, 
Hume’s  humour  is  singularly  unrestrained.  Dr  Birkbeck 
Hill,  in  editing  the  letters  to  Strahan,  for  the  publication 
of  which  the  nation  is  certainly  indebted  to  the  generous 
liberality  of  Lord  Rosebery,  quite  misunderstands  the 
significance  of  a letter.  Misled  in  this  way,  Hill  mis- 
interprets the  author  so  seriously  as  to  charge  Hume 
‘ with  a levity  which  is  only  found  in  a man  who  is 
indifferent  to  strict  truthfulness  ’ {Preface,  p.  8).  This 
surprising  judgment  is  passed,  oddly  enough,  because 
Hume  resents  having  been  deceived.  Strahan  replied 
with  indignation  to  Hume’s  complaint;  and  Hume 
was  not  the  man  to  be  surprised,  when  one  remembers 
his  own  indignation  at  Rousseau’s  charges  against  him. 
How  Hume  afterwards  felt  because  of  this  temporary 
estrangement  from  Strahan,  is  stated  in  a manner  which 
indicates  anything  but  levity.  {Letter  71,  p.  270),  ‘I  do 
not  remember  any  incident  of  my  life,  that  has  given  me 
more  real  concern,  than  your  misapprehension.’  Nothing 
could  be  further  from  accuracy  of  representation  than  to 
speak  of  Hume  as  ‘ indifferent  to  truthfulness.’  This  is 
only  one  of  several  hasty  judgments  passed  by  Dr  G.  B. 


28 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Hill,  from  misapprehension  of  the  passionate  and  the 
humorous  in  Hume’s  nature.  Dr  Hill  has  fulfilled  his 
part  as  an  editor  with  a wealth  of  scholarship  which  calls 
forth  admiration ; but  once  or  twice  he  has  singularly 
failed  to  catch  the  author’s  meaning. 

The  characteristics  of  the  times  in  which  Hume  lived 
should  have  full  weight  on  our  judgments  of  him,  but  they 
need  not  have  more  than  a brief  sketch.  The  union  of 
Scotland  with  England  was  an  event  of  recent  occurrence. 
Considerable  jealousy  still  existed  between  the  two  coun- 
tries, the  Scotch  thinking  themselves  neglected  or  unfairly 
treated ; the  English  feeling  irritated  by  any  civil  appoint- 
ments given  to  Scotchmen.  There  was,  however,  growing 
up  in  Scotland,  a desire  to  acquire  an  accurate  English 
style  in  written  composition,  and  also  to  become  familiar 
with  the  best  English  authors.  A large  measure  of  literary 
ability  was  appearing  in  Scotland ; a jovial  spirit  charac- 
terised even  literary  gatherings.  Hume  felt  attracted  to 
Edinburgh,  where  he  had  free  intercourse  with  the  noted 
literati,  besides  maintaining  correspondence  and  occasional 
intercourse  with  the  leading  men  of  Glasgow.  The  more 
prominent  of  his  literary  friends  were  Adam  Smith, 
author  of  The  Wealth  of  Nations ; John  Home,  author 
of  Douglas;  D:  William  Robertson,  author  of  History 
of  Scotland ; Henry  Home,  ‘Lord  Karnes,’  author  of 
Elements  of  Criticism , in  which  Flume’s  scepticism  is 
controverted ; and  Adam  Ferguson,  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy,  and  author  of  an  Essay  on  the  History  of 
Civil  Society.  Several  of  the  prominent  clergymen  of 
the  city,  more  naturally  those  of  the  moderate  school, 
who  were  less  offended  by  the  freedom  of  his  writing 


DAVID  HUME 


29 


on  theological  and  religious  questions,  were  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  Hume.  Most  marked  amongst  these 
were  Rev.  Dr  Hugh  Blair,  minister  of  the  High  Church, 
and  afterwards  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres  in 
the  University  ■ and  Rev.  Dr  Carlyle,  of  Inveresk,  known 
as  the  ‘Jupiter’  of  his  set.  Beyond  the  Edinburgh  circle, 
the  more  conspicuous  of  his  correspondents  were  Hutche- 
son, Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  Glasgow  University, 
and  his  successor,  Dr  Thomas  Reid,  known  as  the  father 
of  the  Scotch  School  of  Philosophy. 

Amongst  Evangelical  men,  Hume  came  to  be  suspected, 
and  in  a degree  even  feared  and  unreservedly  denounced 
as  an  evil  influence  in  the  country.  His  avowed  scepti- 
cism he  seemed  to  delight  in  expounding  with  ceaseless 
iteration.  Though  it  was  primarily  philosophic  in  its 
origin  and  range,  it  was  resented  with  intensity  of  feeling, 
as  tending  to  foster  Moderatism,  and  to  undermine  religious 
earnestness,  which  had  highly  distinguished  Scotchmen  from 
the  Reformation  period.  In  the  view  of  this  party,  Hume 
stood  out  as  the  ‘ arch-infidel  ’ ; in  his  view,  they  were 
the  ‘zealots,’  whose  attack  he  discounted  in  publishing 
his  Treatise , the  absence  of  which  at  the  outset  added 
to  his  vexation. 

One  of  the  heaviest  disappointments  of  Hume’s  life  was 
his  failure  to  carry  the  appointment  to  a Chair  of  Philo- 
sophy in  a Scottish  University.  His  first  effort  was  for 
the  Edinburgh  Chair  of  Moral  Philosophy ; his  second  for 
the  Logic  Chair  in  Glasgow.  Both  efforts  were  fruitless, 
so  hopeless,  indeed,  as  to  discourage  further  attempts.  In 
rearing,  with  unwavering  resolution  and  conspicuous  ability, 
his  sceptical  philosophy,  he  had  built  a wall  which  barred 


3° 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


his  progress  to  University  distinction.  This  is  the  sole 
explanation  of  the  result.  It  was  no  lack  of  ability  on  his 
part,  or  of  attainment,  or  of  teaching  power,  which  led  to 
his  rejection.  The  force  of  public  opinion  adverse  to 
scepticism  was  the  barrier.  The  interests  of  philosophy 
itself,  and  also  the  interests  of  religion,  are  sacrificed  when 
it  is  proclaimed  that  scepticism  is  the  outcome  of  a truly 
penetrating  speculative  thought.  The  conviction  of  this 
swayed  the  University  authorities.  In  both  cases  he  was 
a candidate  for  a Chair  he  knew  himself  to  be  fitted 
for.  The  electors  well  knew  it,  though  in  less  degree, 
but  they  could  not  trust  him.  This  is  the  penalty  for  the 
philosopher  when  his  bias  is  for  sceptical  thought,  and  when 
besides  he  delights  in  it,  and  in  the  disturbance  which  is 
occasioned  by  its  free  and  even  fierce  expression.  When, 
after  his  death,  his  Dialogues  on  Religion  was  published,  it 
became  apparent  that  in  his  inmost  soul  he  appreciated 
the  grounds  for  antagonism  to  a sceptical  philosophy. 
There  he  makes  Cleanthes,  the  spokesman  who  most 
nearly  expresses  his  own  thoughts,  say  to  Philo,  his 
representative  sceptic : — 1 Your  spirit  of  controversy, 
joined  to  your  abhorrence  of  vulgar  superstition,  carries 
you  strange  lengths,  when  engaged  in  an  argument ; 
and  there  is  nothing  so  sacred  and  venerable,  even  in 
your  own  eyes,  which  you  spare  on  that  occasion.’  To 
this  adverse  criticism  Philo  replies : — ‘ I must  confess 
that  I am  less  cautious  on  the  subject  of  Natural 
Religion  than  on  any  other;  both  because  I know  that 
I can  never,  on  that  head,  corrupt  the  principles  of 
common  sense,  and  because  no  one,  I am  confident, 
in  whose  eyes  I appear  a man  of  common  sense, 


DAVID  HUME 


3i 


will  ever  mistake  my  intentions.  You  in  particular, 
Cleanthes,  with  whom  I live  in  unreserved  intimacy, 
you  are  sensible,  that,  notwithstanding  the  freedom  of 
my  conversation,  and  my  love  of  singular  arguments,  no 
one  has  a deeper  sense  of  religion  impressed  on  his  mind, 
or  pays  more  profound  adoration  to  the  Divine  Being, 
as  he  discovers  himself  to  reason,  in  the  inexplicable 
contrivance  and  artifice  of  Nature.’* 

The  judgment  of  the  Curators  of  Patronage  adverse  to 
Hume  has  been  well  interpreted  by  his  biographer,  Hill 
Burton,  ‘The  revolutionist,  who  is  endeavouring  to  pull 
to  pieces  what  has  been  taught  for  ages  within  the  same 
walls,  and  to  erect  a new  system  in  its  stead,  can  scarcely 
ever  be  a satisfactory  instructor  of  any  considerable  num- 
ber of  young  men.’  f The  characteristics  which  he  had 
clearly  recognised  in  himself  were  adverse  to  his  election 
as  an  Academic  teacher.  * A certain  boldness  of  temper  ’ 
which  made  him  adverse  ‘ to  any  authority  in  philosophy  ’; 
a tendency  to  make  light  of  reason,  as  if  it  were  in- 
sufficient to  lead  us  through  the  mazes  of  perplexity ; and 
an  undisguised  delight  in  sceptical  conclusions,  resolving, 
‘ if  we  must  for  ever  be  a prey  to  errors  and  delusions, 
that  they  shall,  at  least,  be  natural  and  entertaining  ’ 
( Treatise , vol  i.,  p.  3).  He  did  himself  injustice  by  those 
seemingly  unguarded  utterances,  meant  only  to  lighten 
abstruse  discussion.  The  man  was  greatly  better  than 
he  seemed,  when  tested  by  passages  of  this  cast;  but 
he  was  avowedly  swayed  by  a sceptical  bias,  and  this 
the  electors  regarded  as  a disqualification  for  office. 

* Dialogues  concerning  Natural  Religion,  published  1879,  p.  130. 

t Life  of  David  Hume,  I.,  p.  352. 


32 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Hume  was  first  and  chiefly  a speculative  thinker : in- 
tensely interested  in  the  difficulties  besetting  all  research, 
he  consecrated  the  best  efforts  of  his  life  to  penetrate  into 
the  conditions  of  certainty  in  knowledge.  He  prosecuted 
his  task  without  misgiving,  and  was  willing  to  bear  all  the 
consequences,  however  trying  to  reputation  and  ambition. 
Amongst  these  the  loss  of  an  Academic  chair  was  by  far 
the  bitterest  experience.  He  had  shown  in  many  ways 
his  conviction  that  philosophic  research  can  be  success- 
fully conducted  only  in  silent  retreat,  with  attention  con- 
centrated undisturbed  on  all  complexities  of  thought. 
He  even  refused  to  discuss  philosophic  themes  in  general 
company,  and  hardly  relaxed  this  rule  in  the  select 
gatherings  of  thinkers  fully  competent  for  the  discussion 
required.  As  a thinker,  he  really  lived  apart,  feeling 
that  his  speculations  could  be  known  only  through  the 
printed  page,  read  deliberately  and  silently  as  it  had  been 
written.  When,  however,  he  closed  his  studies  for  the 
time,  he  abandoned  all  concern  with  them ; he  returned 
into  society  with  the  alacrity  of  one  who  seeks  relaxation, 
and  with  the  overflowing  humour  of  one  ready  for  amuse- 
ment under  any  conditions.  In  the  same  spirit  his 
familiar  correspondence  was  conducted,  allowing  himself 
often  freedom  for  the  utmost  playfulness  — not  infre- 
quently for  unrestrained  exaggeration,  liable  to  misunder- 
standing by  those  who  were  not  familiar  with  the  licence 
he  allowed  himself  in  the  familiarity  of  friendship. 


CHAPTER  IV 


HUME  AS  A PHILOSOPHER — HIS  PHILOSOPHY  OF 
UNDERSTANDING 

(Knowledge, — its  conditions  and  limits ) 

The  interest  with  which  Hume  entered  on  philosophical 
studies  appears  from  his  correspondence.  ‘ I began  to  con- 
sider seriously  how  I should  proceed  in  my  philosophical 
enquiries.  I found  that  the  moral  philosophy,  transmitted 
to  us  by  antiquity,  laboured  under  the  same  inconvenience 
that  has  been  found  in  their  natural  philosophy,  of  being 
entirely  hypothetical,  and  depending  more  upon  invention 
than  experience,  . . . without  regarding  human  nature. 
This,  therefore,  I resolved  to  make  my  principal  study, 
and  the  source  from  which  I would  derive  every  truth 
in  criticism,  as  well  as  in  morality.’  * 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five,  in  the  retreat  he  had  selected 
in  France,  he  began  philosophical  research  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  one  who  had  found  his  life-work.  The  title 
chosen  for  his  work  was  ‘ A Treatise  of  Human  Nature : 
being  an  attempt  to  introduce  the  experimental  method  of 
reasoning  into  moral  subjects.’  It  thus  appears  that  ‘ the 
experimental  method  ’ was  that  which  allured  him  to  in- 
dependent study,  and  which  held  out  the  prospect  of 
fresh  ‘ discovery,’  even  as  in  physical  research.  His  field 
* Burton’s  Life  of  Hume,  I.,  p.  35. 

C 


33 


34 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


of  study  was  ‘ human  nature  ’ ; his  basis,  ‘ experience  ’ ; 
his  method  an  observational  enquiry  into  the  intel- 
lectual conditions  on  which  a knowledge  of  things  is 
acquired  by  us.  His  main  enquiry,  therefore,  was  con- 
cerned with  the  origin  of  our  thoughts  and  fancies  and 
feelings  as  to  things  around  us. 

The  chief  interest  to  us  in  Hume’s  philosophy  centres 
in  its  distinctive  feature,  his  brave  and  exclusive  reliance 
on  Experience.  Its  strength  and  its  weakness  are  to  be 
traced  to  its  root.  My  purpose  is  to  sketch  his  system  as 
clearly  and  carefully  as  I may  find  possible  within  the 
limits.  If  I succeed  in  presenting  Hume  as  he  really  was 
in  the  field  of  philosophy,  my  leading  purpose  will  be 
gained.  I shall  then  be  willing  to  leave  to  the  reader  the 
more  extended  criticism  which  seems  desirable. 

His  basis  was  Experience ; this  always,  this  only.  What 
he  sought  was  an  interpretation  of  human  nature  by  refer- 
ence to  our  experience,  aided  by  a keen  sceptical  outlook 
against  assumptions,  inventions,  and  hypotheses.  These 
were  the  evils  which  had  at  all  stages  involved  philosophy 
in  confusion,  exposing  its  systems  to  ridicule.  David 
Hume’s  accepted  task  was  to  rid  philosophy  of  these 
evils,  placing  before  thinking  men  a simple  and  complete 
exposition  of  human  experience,  guarded  at  every  point 
by  an  unhesitating  and  bold  scepticism  as  to  everything 
that  proposes  to  go  a step  beyond  Experience.  This 
is  the  true  significance  of  ‘ Hume’s  scepticism.’  If  the 
reader  keep  this  description  well  in  view  from  the  first,  he 
will  have  a fair  chance  of  understanding  Hume  better  than 
he  has  commonly  been  understood  in  his  native  land. 

A safe  and  sure  basis  for  philosophy  we  certainly  have 


DAVID  HUME 


35 


in  Experience.  All  knowledge  must  begin  in  Experience, 
and  all  knowledge  must  be  within  Experience.  Even  thus, 
however,  our  difficulties  are  only  beginning.  We  may 
speak  of  the  simplicity  of  Experience,  but  the  conditions 
of  our  knowledge  are  not  simple,  nor  are  they  easily  inter- 
preted. Hume  sees  this  from  the  outset,  saying  in  the 
introduction  to  his  Treatise , 1 If  truth  be  at  all  within  the 
reach  of  human  capacity,  it  is  certain  it  must  be  very  deep 
and  abstruse ; and  to  hope  we  shall  arrive  at  it  without 
pains,  while  the  greatest  geniuses  have  failed  with  the 
utmost  pains,  must  certainly  be  esteemed  sufficiently  vain 
and  presumptuous.’  It  is  in  fact  easy  to  say,  ‘ we  shall 
keep  to  experience  ’ ; but  to  set  forth  all  that  is  involved 
within  * common  experience  ’ is  no  easy  task.  Owning 
this,  Hume  shut  himself  off  from  his  ordinary  surround- 
ings, and,  retreating  to  France,  devoted  himself  to  three 
years  of  the  closest  observation  and  reflection.  It  was 
no  light  thing  he  resolved  upon,  and  he  was  ready  for  any 
sacrifice,  animated  by  the  expectation  that  there  lay  within 
his  reach  discoveries  which  would  have  permanent  value. 
Expectations  are  not  always  fulfilled,  but  brave  resolves 
are  ever  to  be  honoured,  and  they  have  ever  reward  in 
their  execution,  — though  readers  may  doubt  whether 
‘ experience  ’ sustains  this  view  of  life’s  efforts. 

Everyone  can  see  from  what  directions  difficulties  must 
come,  when  he  considers  the  wide  sphere  of  existence  in 
which  we  have  our  place,  and  the  conditions  under  which 
we  interpret  the  facts  of  experience.  Hume  does  not 
mean  that  the  universe  lies  within  an  individual’s  experi- 
ence ; he  only  asks  how  far  the  universe  can  be  under- 
stood by  reference  to  our  experience.  Hume  does  not 


36 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


mean  that  our  senses,  being  essentially  like  those  of  the 
animals,  are  the  measure  of  reality ; he  asks  what  inter- 
pretation we  put  on  our  impressions  by  use  of  our 
understanding.  Accordingly,  the  entire  first  volume  oi 
his  Treatise , extending  to  475  pages,  is  ‘of  the  under- 
standing ’ ; and  all  through  it  there  run  references  to 
‘ unknown  causes,’  and  to  ‘ particular  causes  of  particular 
events,’  while  he  holds  that  the  actual  relation  between 
cause  and  effect  never  comes  within  our  experience. 
These  few  references  are  enough  to  shew  through  what 
an  African  thicket  the  path  of  exploration  must  be  cut. 

He  begins  with  ‘ the  perceptions  of  the  human  mind  ’ ; 
the  outlook  a man  has  on  his  surroundings  ; what  is  the 
origin  of  his  ‘ perceptions  ’ ? how  does  he  perceive  things  ? 
how  is  he  affected  by  things  ? The  physiology  of  nerve 
and  brain  was  unknown  when  Hume  set  to  work.  This 
field  of  research  was  therefore  closed  to  him,  though  he 
did  much  to  turn  attention  in  its  direction.  Witness 
Reid’s  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind , on  the  Principles 
of  Common  Sense  (1763),  with  his  discussion  of  the 
organs  of  sense,  and  of  the  impressions  made  on  them, 
largely  suggested  by  Hume’s  Treatise. 

Hume  speaks  of  perceptions  ‘ entering  ’ the  mind,  dwell- 
ing on  the  manner  in  which  ‘ they  strike  upon  the  mind  ’ 
and  ‘ make  their  way  into  our  thought  and  consciousness.’ 
These  phrases  seem  almost  to  suggest  that  perceptions  are 
made  outside,  and  force  their  way  into  an  inner  conscious- 
ness where  they  are  stored.  Nothing  so  crude  as  this  is 
intended.  He  is  only  encountering  the  disadvantages  of 
popular  usage.  His  defence  is  given  later,  when  he  writes, 

1 It  is  very  difficult  to  talk  of  the  operations  of  the  mind 


DAVID  HUME 


37 


with  perfect  propriety  and  exactness,  because  common 
language  has  seldom  made  any  very  nice  distinctions 
between  them’  (p.  187). 

The  historic  position  was  such  as  to  involve  philo- 
sophical research  in  needless  perplexity.  Locke’s  great 
essay  On  the  Human  Understanding  held  the  field,  hav- 
ing run  through  five  editions  before  Hume  entered  on  his 
philosophical  enquiries.  Locke,  having  first  expended  his 
force  on  a polemic  against  ‘ innate  ideas,’  had  insisted  that 
‘ all  the  materials  of  reason  and  knowledge  ’ come  ‘ from 
Experience,’  that  observation  is  ‘employed  either  about 
external  sensible  objects  or  about  the  internal  operations 
of  our  minds,’  that  the  mind  may  be  regarded  as  ‘ white 
paper  void  of  all  characters,’  that  ideas  are  the  figures 
‘ which  the  busy  and  boundless  fancy  of  man  has  painted 
on  it,’  and  that  ‘ all  ideas  come  from  Sensation  and  Reflec- 
tion.’ Our  Senses  ‘ convey  into  the  mind  several  distinct 
perceptions  of  things,’  and  Reflection,  which  is  1 the  notice 
the  mind  takes  of  its  own  operations,’  ‘furnishes  the 
understanding  with  another  set  of  ideas,  which  could  not 
be  had  from  things  without.’  Hume  takes  Locke’s  stand- 
point, acknowledges  our  dependence  on  Experience  only, 
and  entering  with  the  freshness  of  youthful  enthusiasm  into 
the  enquiry  as  to  the  origin  of  our  ideas  on  the  conditions 
implied,  he  works  out  his  scheme  of  association  under  the 
sway  of  custom,  develops  his  doctrine  of  ignorance  of 
matter,  of  mind,  and  of  causality,  presenting  a philosophic 
scepticism  as  the  outcome.  In  this  his  grand  service  is 
an  exposure  of  the  inherent  weakness  of  an  empirical 
philosophy.  Locke’s  Essay  was  an  epoch-making  book ; 
Hume’s  Treatise  prepared  the  way  for  a new  and  grander 


3« 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


epoch  in  the  history  of  the  science  of  man.  With  such 
tracings  the  reader  may  follow  readily  the  unfolding  of 
Hume’s  ‘ system,’  of  which  he  speaks  so  confidingly  and 
confidently  as  the  discussion  proceeds. 

What  does  Experience  mean — your  experience  and 
mine  ? How  does  there  originate  out  of  this  simple 
source  all  the  variety  of  relations  belonging  to  it?  How 
can  we  by  interpretation  of  it  reach  a science  of  human 
nature?  These  are  Hume’s  grand  questions.  In 
seeking  an  answer,  he  hopes  to  achieve  large  discoveries 
in  philosophy.  His  search  is  first  for  the  simple  elements 
of  our  experience, — next  for  the  origin  of  the  strange 
complexity  which  it  involves, — and  ultimately  for  the 
philosophy  of  existence  possible  to  us  within  its  limits. 
‘ The  subjects  of  the  understanding  and  passions  make  a 
complete  chain  of  reasoning  by  themselves  ’ ; and  beyond 
these  lies  ‘ the  examination  of  morals,  politics,  and  criti- 
cism.’ These,  taken  together,  give  his  general  survey  of 
the  field  of  research. 

The  primary  element  of  Experience  is  Impression. 
This  ‘ arises  in  the  soul  originally,  from  unknown  causes  ’ 
(22).*  ‘An  impression  first  strikes  upon  the  senses  and 
makes  us  perceive  heat  or  cold,  thirst  or  hunger,  pleasure 
or  pain  of  some  kind  or  other  ’ (22).  Under  this  name  are 
included  ‘ all  our  sensations,  passions,  and  emotions,  as 
they  make  their  first  appearance  in  the  soul’  (12).  He 
thus  distinguishes  between  an  outer  and  an  inner  source 
of  impression.  All  that  can  be  said  as  to  their  rise  is  that 
‘ they  strike  upon  the  mind,  and  make  their  way  into  our 
thought  or  consciousness’  (12).  Impressions  ‘are  all  so 
* The  bracketed  figures  refer  to  the  pages  of  the  1st  Ed.  (in  3 vols.) 


DAVID  HUME 


39 


clear  and  evident,  that  they  admit  of  no  controversy’  (65). 
Here  is  no  room  for  doubt.  Our  consciousness  of 
impression  leaves  no  place  for  question  or  appeal.  * The 
extent  and  force  of  the  human  understanding  ’ (4)  still  lies 
beyond  this,  involving  wider  questions.  When  Experience 
is  taken  in  its  utmost  simplicity,  all  that  can  be  said  is 
that  we  are  conscious  of  some  feeling ; and  ‘ every  one  of 
himself  will  readily  perceive  the  difference  between  feeling 
and  thinking’  (12).  Even  at  this  early  stage  we  are 
dealing  with  a set  of  words  of  which  we  have  no  inter- 
pretation, such  as  1 consciousness,’  ‘ understanding,’ 
‘thought,’  ‘mind,’  ‘soul’;  but  it  does  not  seem  possible 
to  make  our  statements  without  being  allowed  their 
provisional  use.  Whether  these  also  admit  of  no  con- 
troversy is  not  as  yet  determined.  We  have  only  before 
us  the  primary  form  of  ‘ the  perceptions  of  the  human 
mind,’ — impressions  coming  through  the  senses  or  from 
within  our  nature  itself.  But  in  naming  them  so,  he 
‘ would  not  be  understood  to  express  the  manner  in  which 
our  lively  perceptions  are  produced  in  the  soul,  but  merely 
the  perceptions  themselves.’  These  impressions  are 
fleeting.  They  ‘ make  their  way  into  consciousness  ’ 
and  then  vanish,  to  be  followed  by  others.  Are  they 
then  utterly  lost  as  particular  feelings,  having  had  only  a 
momentary  existence  ? Assuredly  not.  The  experience 
of  which  they  are  the  primary  phase,  includes  more  than 
this,  as  a consequence , we  may  say.  ‘ In  thinking  and 
reasoning,’  ideas  arise  in  the  mind.  These  are  ‘ the  faint 
images  of  our  sensations,  passions,  and  emotions,  as  they 
make  their  first  appearance  in  the  soul.’  In  this  use  of 
the  term  ‘ Idea,’  there  is  a departure  from  Locke’s  usage, 


40 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


who  took  ‘ Idea  ’ as  the  term  to  include  all  the  pheno- 
mena in  consciousness.  In  thus  departing  from  Locke’s 
usage,  he  says — ‘ Perhaps  I rather  restore  the  word,  idea, 
to  its  original  sense,  from  which  Mr  Locke  had  perverted 
it,  in  making  it  stand  for  all  our  impressions  ’ (13,  note). 
What  then  are  these  ‘ Ideas,’  and  what  the  conditions  of 
their  origin  ? How  are  ‘ the  faint  images  ’ of  our  impres- 
sions produced  ? They  are  not  fading  impressions  ; they 
take  the  place  of  vanished  impressions,  which  had  greater 
( force  and  liveliness  ’ while  they  lasted.  ‘ Of  the  impres- 
sion there  is  a copy  taken  by  the  mind,  which  remains 
after  the  impression  ceases ; and  this  we  call  an  idea  ’ 
(22).  -Impressions  ‘are  copied  by  the  memory  and 
imagination,  and  become  ideas’  (22).  This  involves 
divergence  from  the  ‘ white  paper  ’ theory  as  if  nature 
made  an  impression  on  a sensitive  surface.  The  theory 
suggests  an  activity  of  mind  in  producing  a copy ; and  it 
is  added  that  the  ideal  has  less  ‘force  and  liveliness,’ 
is  ‘ faint  and  low,’  and  ‘ when  it  entirely  loses  that 
vivacity  ’ which  characterises  impressions,  it  ‘ is  a perfect 
idea’  (24).  Hume  does  not  deal  with  the  question  how 
the  mind  makes  the  copy.  He  takes  it  merely  as  a fact 
within  our  experience.  Subsequent  references  throughout 
his  first  volume  are  consistent  with  those  now  quoted, 
but  do  not  add  any  thing  by  way  of  explanation.  Under 
the  action  of  Memory  and  Imagination,  ‘an  impression 
again  makes  its  appearance  as  an  idea’  (23).  Memory 
‘ preserves  the  original  form  in  which  its  objects  were 
presented’  (25).  Ideas  are  spoken  of  as  ‘adequate 
representations  of  objects’  (58).  Somewhat  more  de- 
finite is  the  reference  to  the  ‘ judgments  of  our  senses » 


DAVID  HUME 


4i 


(89),  which,  it  is  admitted,  ‘ undergo  correction.’  On  the 
other  hand,  Hume  speaks  of  ‘ two  bodies  presenting  them- 
selves,’ and  yet  he  is  careful  to  repeat — ‘ My  philosophy 
pretends  only  to  explain  the  nature  and  causes  of  our 
perceptions,  or  impressions  and  ideas’  (118).  While 
perceptions  are  said  to  4 make  their  way  into  our  thought 
or  consciousness,’  he  represents  this  as  ‘ a mere  passive 
admission  of  the  impressions  through  the  organs  of  sensa- 
tion’ (133). 

The  next  advance  is  the  noting  of  similarity  between 
Impressions  and  Ideas.  * The  first  circumstance  that 
strikes  my  eye  is  the  great  resemblance  betwixt  our 
impressions  and  ideas  in  every  other  particular,  except 
their  degree  of  force  and  vivacity.  The  one  seem  to  be 
in  a manner  the  reflection  of  the  other,  so  that  all  the 
perceptions  of  the  mind  are  double,  and  appear  both  as 
impressions  and  ideas  ’ (13).  ‘ This  circumstance  seems 

to  me  remarkable  ’ (14).  He  dwells  upon  it  with  special 
interest,  regarding  it  as  in  some  sense  a ‘ discovery,’  and 
of  the  first  importance.  ‘ The  Ideas  I form  are  exact 
representations  of  the  impressions  I felt  ’ ; ‘ these  two 
species  of  perception  are  exactly  correspondent  ’ (16) ; 
and  there  is  a ‘constant  conjunction  of  resembling 
impressions.’  If  there  is  ‘ a copy  taken  by  the  mind,’  it 
seems  a natural  result  that  there  should  be  a resemblance. 
But  Hume  is  arrested  by  the  * constant  conjunction  ’ of  the 
two  things  as  if  it  were  settled  by  the  nature  of  the  mind 
that  the  copy  must  follow  the  impression,  so  that  the  per- 
ceptions of  the  mind  by  a provision  of  nature  are  in- 
variably double.  And  we  ‘ find  by  constant  experience, 
that  the  simple  impressions  always  take  the  precedence  of 


43 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


their  correspondent  ideas  ’ (17).  At  a later  stage  we  find 
him  repeat  his  view  of  the  importance  of  all  this.  ‘ No 
discovery  could  have  been  made  more  happily  for  deciding 
all  controversies  concerning  ideas  than  that  above  men- 
tioned, that  impressions  always  take  the  precedency  of 
them,  and  that  every  idea  with  which  the  imagination  is 
furnished,  first  makes  its  appearance  in  a correspondent 
impression  ’ (65).  The  lack  of  explanation  of  how  the 
copy  is  taken  proves  a serious  disadvantage  now,  even 
when  we  grant  the  doubleness,  and  the  uniformity  of 
sequence,  and  add  that  ‘ all  our  simple  ideas  in  their  first 
appearance  are  derived  from  simple  impressions’  (16). 

But  Hume  recognises  that  it  becomes  needful  to  dis- 
tinguish between  simple  and  complex  in  our  perceptions. 
‘ Upon  a more  accurate  survey  I find  I have  been  carried 
away  too  far  by  the  first  appearance,  and  that  I must  make 
use  of  the  distinction  of  perceptions  into  simple  and  com- 
plex, to  limit  this  general  decision,  that  all  our  ideas  and 
impressions  are  resembling’  (14).  This  leads  to  a modi- 
fication of  view,  shewing  how  much  must  depend  on  the 
explanation  to  be  given  of  how  the  ‘ copy  ’ is  made.  1 1 
observe  that  many  of  our  complex  ideas  never  had  impres- 
sions that  correspond  to  them ; and  that  many  of  our 
complex  impressions  never  are  exactly  copied  in  ideas  ’ 
(15).  For  example,  the  idea  we  have  of  the  ‘New 
Jerusalem  ’ or  of  ‘ Paris.’  He  then  feels  constrained  to 
admit  that  ‘ the  rule  is  not  universally  true,  that  they 
are  exact  copies  of  each  other’  (15).  This  suggests  that 
nature  does  not  provide  for  ‘ double  perceptions  ’ though 
the  phenomena  are  dual ; and  that  the  later  phrase,  ‘ judg- 
ments of  the  senses  ’ is  truer  to  experience  than  the  state- 


DAVID  HUME 


43 


ment  that  ‘ there  is  a copy  of  the  impression  taken  by 
the  mind.’  Both  statements,  however,  imply  an  activity 
of  mind  somewhat  obscured  by  the  references  to  ‘ re- 
semblance ’ and  ‘correspondence.’  Our  author,  neverthe- 
less, continues  attracted  by  the  ‘ discovery’  of  resemblance ; 
and  he  ‘ ventures  to  affirm  that  the  rule  holds  without  excep- 
tion ’ in  the  case  of  ‘ simple  perceptions.’  * Every  simple 
impression  has  a correspondent  idea  ’ (15).  But  even  here 
the  suggestion  of  ‘ representation,’  ‘ image,’  ‘ copy,’  is  not 
easily  supported  by  reference  to  ‘ experience.’  ‘ The  idea  of 
red  ’ is  taken  as  an  example,  but  we  find  it  more  difficult  to 
form  ‘ an  idea  of  red,’  than  an  idea  of  1 a red  apple,’  and 
even  on  this  point  ideas  will  differ  according  as  we  are 
more  familiar  with  the  Scotch  apple  or  with  the  American. 
Hume’s  modification  of  his  view  by  reference  to  complex 
perceptions,  seems  to  apply  even  to  simple  perceptions,  so 
far,  at  least,  as  to  awaken  doubt  as  to  his  first  position  that 
‘ the  difference  between  impressions  and  ideas  consists  in 
the  degrees  of  force  and  liveliness  with  which  they  strike 
upon  the  mind  ’ (1 1). 

The  complexity  of  Experience  opens  out  still  further. 
Even  impressions  must  be  distinguished  as  ‘ those  of 
Sensation  and  those  of  Reflexion  ’ (22).  ‘ The  first  kind 

arises  in  the  soul  originally  from  unknown  causes.  The 
second  is  derived  in  a great  measure  from  our  ideas,  and 
that  in  the  following  order.  An  impression  first  strikes 
upon  the  senses,  and  makes  us  perceive  . . . pleasure  or 
pain  of  some  kind  or  other.  Of  this  impression  there  is  a 
copy  taken  by  the  mind,  which  remains  after  the  impres- 
sion ceases.  This  idea  of  pleasure  or  pain,  when  it 
returns  upon  the  soul,  produces  the  new  impressions  of 


44 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


desire  and  aversion,  hope  and  fear,  which  may  properly  be 
called  impressions  of  reflexion,  because  derived  from  it. 
These  again  are  copied  by  the  memory  and  imagination, 
and  become  ideas  ; which  perhaps  in  their  turn  give  rise 
to  other  impressions  and  ideas.  So  that  the  impressions 
of  reflexion  are  antecedent  to  their  correspondent  ideas, 
but  posterior  to  the  ideas  of  sensation  and  derived  from 
them.’  This  passage  is  not  too  long  for  its  purpose,  for 
the  complexity  described  belongs  to  the  common  experi- 
ence, quite  apart  from  philosophy.  This  double  relation 
of  thought  to  feeling  is  such  that  at  one  time  thought 
depends  on  feeling  j at  another,  feeling  depends  on 
thought.  The  first  feeling  comes  to  us , we  know  not  how  ; 
the  second  is  awakened  by  our  thought.  This  complexity 
seems  to  present  to  view  the  whole  range  of  enquiry. 
Hume  is  so  impressed  by  it  that  it  leads  him  even  to 
change  the  order  of  investigation  so  far  as  to  pass  * impres- 
sions ’ in  order  to  treat  of  ‘ ideas.’  The  inducement  is 
curiously  explained.  ‘ As  the  impressions  of  reflection,  viz., 
passions,  desires  and  emotions,  which  principally  deserve 
our  attention  arise  mostly  from  ideas,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
reverse  that  method  which,  at  first  sight,  seems  most 
natural ; and  in  order  to  explain  the  nature  and  principles 
of  the  human  mind,  give  a particular  account  of  ideas 
before  we  proceed  to  impressions.  For  this  reason  I have 
here  chosen  to  begin  with  ideas  ’ (23).  This  is  a tempta- 
tion springing  from  his  ultimate  object — 1 an  attempt  to 
introduce  the  experimental  method  of  reasoning  into 
moral  subjects.’  But  the  philosopher  who  declares  that 
‘ the  only  solid  foundation  we  can  give  to  the  science  of 
man  must  be  laid  on  experience  and  observation  ’ (6), 


DAVID  HUME 


45 


becomes  bound  to  keep  by  the  natural  order  of  experience, 
in  order  to  read  accurately  its  testimony.  If  nature  has 
so  ordered  our  experience  that  all  perceptions  are  double, 
and  those  of  sense  ‘always  take  the  precedence  of  their 
correspondent  ideas,’  this  deviation  from  the  natural  order 
is  a mistake,  and  is  likely  to  throw  the  ‘ system  ’ into  con- 
fusion. The  significance  of  the  complexity  is,  however, 
to  be  seriously  considered.  It  involves  a dualism  in  the 
history  of  impressions.  There  are  ‘ impressions  of  sensa- 
tion’ coming  from  without,  which  ‘strike  upon  the 
senses  ’ ; and  there  are  impressions  from  within,  ‘ desires 
and  emotions,’  depending  on  reflection.  ‘ The  examination 
of  our  sensations  belongs  more  to  anatomists  and  natural 
philosophers  than  to  moral ’(23);  but,  when  ‘they  make 
their  way  into  consciousness,’  it  is  quite  otherwise,  for  it 
remains  true  that  ‘ all  impressions  are  internal  and  perish- 
ing existences’  (339),  having  their  place  within  us  in 
accordance  with  conditions  of  consciousness.  After 
having  remarked  the  ‘ constant  conjunction  ’ of  impres- 
sions and  ideas,  and  having  found  in  this  an  order  of 
dependence,  inasmuch  as  we  ‘ find  by  constant  experience 
that  the  simple  impressions  always  take  the  precedence  of 
their  correspondent  ideas,  but  never  appear  in  the  contrary 
order’  (17),  it  seems  a singular  deviation  from  the  natural 
order  to  ‘ give  a particular  account  of  ideas  before  we  pro- 
ceed to  impressions  ’ (23).  In  consequence  the  treatment 
‘ of  the  impressions  of  the  senses  and  memory  ’ is  delayed 
till  Part  III.,  section  5,  p.  151.  This  determination  ‘to 
begin  with  ideas’  affects  seriously  the  structure  of  the 
Treatise. 

The  effect  on  the  development  of  the  theory  is  to  pre- 


46 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


sent  Empiricism  in  a more  trying  light.  The  field  of  life’s 
activity  is  illuminated  by  impressions,  external  and  internal ; 
all  ideas  are  dependent  on  them  ; ‘ innate  ideas  ’ are, 
therefore,  excluded  (21).  Impressions  are  unaccounted 
for ; they  are,  however,  classified,  according  to  their  source, 
as  external  or  internal ; how  they  arise  is  unknown  to  us 
(a  physiology  of  the  senses  and  of  organic  sensibilities  not 
being  at  command).  The  main  difficulties  are  now  full  in 
view, — how  have  impressions  their  ‘ correspondent  ideas  ’ ; 
how  do  these  ideas  subsist  as  a system;  how  are  those 
relations  essential  to  the  scheme  of  knowledge  originated 
and  maintained ; and  how  does  this  scheme  stand  related 
to  the  system  of  things  we  name  the  universe?  With 
nothing  more  than  impressions  and  their  copies  to  work 
with,  a faint  outline  of  the  sceptical  result  is  already  shining 
through  this  description  of  our  experience.  Its  incom- 
pleteness involves  its  insecurity,  and  this  means  doubt. 
In  this  study  of  ‘ the  extent  and  force  of  the  human 
understanding,’  the  theory  that  mind  is  as  ‘ white  paper, 
void  of  all  characters  ’ is  being  discredited  ; and  the  theory 
that  it  is  as  ‘ a copying-press  ’ does  not  show  to  advantage.* 
We  need  to  ascertain  by  direct  observation  ‘ the  force  of 
the  human  understanding.’ 

The  first  question  is,  How  have  impressions  their  ‘ corre- 
spondent ideas’?  To  ‘give  a particular  account  of  ideas, 
before  we  proceed  to  impressions,’  is  ‘to  reverse’  the 
natural  order.  It  is  to  act  as  the  builder  who  proceeds 
with  the  structure  before  he  has  made  sure  of  the  founda- 
tion. To  delay  the  primary  question  from  Part  I.,  section 

* It  is  of  special  consequence  to  the  student  of  Hume  to  mark  this 
change  of  order. 


DAVID  HUME 


4? 


2,  until  Part  III.,  section  5,  was  a serious  thing.  Let  the 
reader  transfer  sections  5 and  6 of  Part  III.  to  their 
natural  place  in  Part  I.,  after  section  2,  and  it  will  appear 
how  brief  and  insufficient  is  the  treatment,  how  naturally 
the  author  admits  that  he  is  employing  ‘ materials  which 
are  of  a mixed  and  heterogeneous  nature  ’ (151),  and  con- 
sequently how  much  of  the  brief  discussion  falls  out  of 
account  when  it  is  placed  in  its  natural  position. 

In  proceeding  to  ‘ give  a particular  account  of  ideas,’ 
the  discussion  enters  into  the  heart  of  all  the  complications 
connected  with  their  relations.  We  become  concerned 
with  the  conditions  of  reflections  ; memory  and  imagina- 
tion are  called  into  requisition ; association  of  ideas  are 
noted;  and  forthwith  we  are  drifting  out  on  the  wide 
ocean  where  single  impressions  are  as  difficult  to  descry  as 
the  mountain  rills  flowing  to  the  sea.  Here  each  voyager 
has  his  separate  experience.  Men  originate  their  own 
systems  of  thought.  There  are  associations  of  impressions 
and  of  their  ‘ correspondent  ideas  ’ according  to  similarity 
and  dissimilarity ; and  of  things  according  to  their  con- 
tiguity in  place  and  in  time ; and  of  occurrences  according 
to  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.  We  speak  of  substance 
and  qualities,  and  modes  of  existence ; and  according  to 
the  natural  activity  of  reflection  we  institute  a search  into 
space  and  time,  and  all  problems  of  existence  presented 
by  the  great  universe. 

Hume  is  eager  to  grapple  with  all  the  complications 
here  involved,  and  to  him  is  due  the  honour  belonging  to 
independent  research  into  the  origin  of  the  tendencies 
and  habitual  courses  of  reflection  characteristic  of  our 
mental  procedure.  His  first  concern  is  to  be  true  to  his 


48 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


fundamental  position,  ‘that  all  our  simple  ideas  in  their 
first  appearance  are  derived  from  simple  impressions 
which  are  correspondent  to  them,  and  which  they  exactly 
represent.’  His  next  is  to  trace,  with  the  most  painstaking 
care,  the  manner  in  which  men  come  to  think  as  they  do 
of  the  relations  of  things  external,  and  of  their  own  doings 
and  destiny.  Only  a brief  outline  of  his  method  can  be 
given  here. 

Impressions  and  ideas  are  passing  incidents,  quickly 
vanishing  from  our  consciousness.  How  then  are  relations 
established  affording  coherence  to  our  experience,  and 
giving  to  it  an  enlarged  significance  ? ‘ When  any  im- 

pression has  been  present  with  the  mind,  it  again  makes 
its  appearance  there  as  an  idea’  (23).  The  impressions 
‘ have  gone  before  to  prepare  the  way  ’ for  the  ideas,  and 
‘ the  faculty  by  which  we  repeat  our  impressions  ’ is  either 
memory  or  imagination.  We  note  ‘ that  quality  by  which 
two  ideas  are  connected  together  in  the  imagination,’  so 
that  the  one  1 naturally  introduces  the  other  ’ to  conscious- 
ness ; and  also  ‘ the  arbitrary  union  of  two  ideas  in  the 
fancy,’  in  accordance  with  some  particular  circumstance 
by  which  ‘we  may  think  proper  to  compare  them’  (32). 
Here  three  ‘ faculties  ’ are  at  work,  Memory,  Imagination, 
Comparison.  Their  nature  is  not  specially  considered, 
but  rather  the  ‘ association  of  ideas.’  ‘ This  uniting 
principle  among  ideas  ’is  'as  a gentle  force  which 
commonly  prevails,’  as  appears  in  the  common  features 
of  language,  ‘ nature  in  a manner  pointing  out  to  every- 
one those  simple  ideas  which  are  most  proper  to  be 
united  into  a complex  one.’  Such  references  to  the 
action  of  ‘ nature  ’ are  frequent.  The  qualities  by  which 


DAVID  HUME 


49 


‘ the  mind  is  after  this  manner  conveyed  from  one  idea  to 
another  ’ are  Resemblance,  Contiguity  in  time  or  place,  and 
Cause  and  Effect.  We  enter  on  the  exercise  of  com- 
parison, discrimination,  classification,  and  inference.  We 
are  within  the  recognised  province  of  Intellect  and  Will. 
Hume  does  not,  however,  deal  with  the  exercise  of  these 
in  a prominent  way.  He  does,  indeed,  occasionally 
allude  to  the  fact  that  ‘ we  accompany  our  ideas  with  a 
kind  of  reflection’  (52),  and,  referring  to  power  and 
activity,  he  remarks  that  ‘when  a person  is  possessed  of 
any  power,  there  is  no  more  required  to  convert  it  into 
action,  but  the  exercise  of  the  Will  ’ (30).  These  are, 
however,  only  occasional  references.  He  is  much  more 
occupied  with  ‘ association  of  ideas  ’ as  1 the  gentle  force 
which  commonly  prevails,’  under  conditions  not  generally 
noted  by  us.  His  service  to  philosophy  is  most  manifest 
in  this  direction,  while  things,  as  well  as  ideas,  come 
largely  into  view. 

Cause  and  Effect  may  be  selected  as  the  most  important 
of  the  relations  named,  the  treatment  of  which  is  most 
characteristic  of  our  author.  Resemblance  is  readily 
restricted  to  ideas,  but  subsequent  references  apply  to  the 
outer  world.  ‘As  the  senses,  in  changing  their  objects, 
. . . take  them  as  they  lie  contiguous  to  each  other,  the 
imagination  must  by  long  custom  acquire  the  same  method 
of  thinking’  (28).  But  ‘there  is  no  relation  which  pro- 
duces a stronger  connection  in  the  fancy,  and  makes  one 
idea  more  readily  recall  another  than  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect  betwixt  their  objects  ’ (28).  Cause  concerns 
change  and  motion,  as  well  as  origin  of  existence,  and 
so  bears  on  our  observations  first,  and  on  philosophic 

D 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


50 

thought  afterwards.  A cause  is  that  which  under  existing 
conditions  produces  change  in  the  order  of  things.  We 
deal  no  longer  with  sensory  impressions,  but  with  things 
as  related  to  each  other.  Hume’s  statements  recognise 
this.  Causality  is  * the  power  by  which  one  object 
produces  another’  (126).  ‘Cause  and  effect  are  rela- 
tions of  which  we  receive  information  from  experience  ’ 
(126).  Experience  places  us  in  relation  with  the  external, 
so  that  we  are  constantly  influenced  by  the  conditions 
around  us,  and  that  to  a degree  much  greater  than 
particular  impressions  entail.  Hence  the  need  for  re- 
ferring not  only  to  impressions  and  ideas,  but  also  to 
objects,  to  physical  laws,  and  to  the  action  of  nature. 
Allusions  to  those  abound  in  Hume’s  Treatise , but 
without  deliberate  treatment  of  the  problem  as  to  the 
relation  of  impressions  to  objects.  There  is,  however, 
necessary  reference  to  adequate  and  inadequate  ‘ideas,’ 
and  it  is  assumed  that  ‘ wherever  ideas  are  adequate 
representations  of  objects,  the  relations,  contradictions, 
and  agreements  of  the  ideas  are  all  applicable  to  the 
objects  ’ (58). 

The  following  are  examples  of  Hume’s  more  general 
statements  as  to  Causation.  Causality  is  ‘ the  power  by 
which  one  object  produces  another’  (126).  ‘ It  is  only 

causation  which  produces  such  a connexion  as  to  give  us 
assurance,  from  the  existence  or  action  of  one  object,  that 
it  was  followed  or  preceded  by  any  other  existence  or 
action’  (133).  ‘To  begin  regularly  we  must  consider 
the  idea  of  causation , and  see  from  what  origin  it  is 
derived,  . . . examining  that  primary  impression  from 
which  it  arises’  (134).  It  is  granted  that  ‘the  idea  of 


DAVID  HUME 


5i 


Cause  ’ is  within  consciousness,  the  problem  concerns  its 
entrance. 

Our  author’s  first  effort  is  to  fence  round  the  area  of 
research.  This  is  done  by  a series  of  negatives  which  will 
be  admitted.  (1)  1 The  power  by  which  one  object 
produces  another  is  never  discoverable  merely  from  their 
idea  ’(126);  nor  (2)  ‘ from  abstract  reasoning  or  reflection  ’ 
(126).  (3)  ‘There  is  no  single  phenomenon,  even  the 

most  simple,  which  can  be  accounted  for  from  the 
qualities  of  the  objects  as  they  appear  to  us  ’ ; or  (4)  ‘ which 
we  could  foresee  without  the  help  of  our  memory  and 
experience’  (126).  This,  then,  is  Hume’s  grand  diffi- 
culty. If  ‘ nothing  is  ever  really  present  with  the  mind 
but  its  perceptions,  or  impressions  and  ideas  ’ (123),  and 
if  ‘ the  qualities  of  the  objects  as  they  appear  to  us  ’ do 
not  include  ‘ the  power  by  which  one  object  produces 
another,’  whence  comes  the  conception  of  Cause  ? 

For  an  answer  we  must  turn  to  the  objects  and  their 
relations.  ‘ Let  us,  therefore,  cast  our  eye  on  any  two 
objects,  which  we  call  cause  and  effect,  and  turn  them  on 
all  sides,  in  order  to  find  that  impression  which  produces 
an  idea  of  such  prodigious  consequence’  (135).  Coming 
soon  to  admit  that  ‘ there  is  a necessary  connexion,’  he  says, 
‘Here  again  I turn  the  object  on  all  sides’  (139).  The 
phrase  is  a favourite  one,  indicating  his  reliance  on  care- 
fully derived  observation  rather  than  on  casual  impressions, 
such  as  come  to  the  non-reflective  mind,  and  declaring 
how  difficult  is  the  pass  over  these  mountains.  How  can 
we  rise  from  the  fleeting  impressions,  and  from  their 
‘ double,’  to  recognise  the  fixed  or  the  ‘ necessary  ’ in 
nature  and  in  thought  ? That  this  elevation  is  reached, 


52 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


even  by  ordinary  minds  independently,  is  a familiar  fact ; 
yet  is  the  exercise  one  of  very  striking  character,  for  ‘ the 
mind  in  its  reasoning  from  causes  or  effects  carries  its 
views  beyond  these  objects  which  it  sees  or  remembers  ’ 
(148).  Without  parting  company  with  its  ‘ impressions  and 
ideas,’  it  transcends  them  all,  and  also  those  efforts  of 
memory  by  which  those  are  recalled.  The  ‘ necessary  ’ 
in  thought,  and  also  in  nature  itself,  is  as  superior  to 
‘ common  experience  ’ as  the  mountain  height  is  above 
the  stream  in  the  valley.  Even  ‘ to  turn  the  objects  on 
all  sides  ’ will  help  us  no  more  than  our  lifting  of  stones 
from  the  bed  of  the  stream  and  turning  them  in  our  hands 
before  throwing  them  back  will  help  us  in  climbing  to  the 
heights  above.  When  we  speak  of  ‘ invariable  sequence,’ 
and  ‘uniformity  of  nature,’  and  of  ‘necessary  connection,’ 
‘we  always  conclude  there  is  some  secret  cause’  (133),  as 
to  which  experience  carries  no  witness.  Experience 
leaves  all  in  uncertainty — the  issue  is  doubt — a sceptical 
philosophy,  thinking  and  speaking  of  that  which  is  beyond 
our  reach,  yet  sorely  puzzled  by  a persistent  reference  to 
the  necessity  of  a cause,  which  all  affirm,  and  yet  which 
experience  does  not  warrant.  The  Philosophy  exploring 
the  valley  finds  no  approach  to  the  pass  by  which  to 
cross  into  the  region  beyond.  ‘ Some  secret  cause  ’ is 
still  our  phrase. 

At  this  point  curiosity  is  greatly  quickened  as  Hume’s 
steps  are  watched.  ‘ The  idea  of  causation  must  be 
derived  from  some  relation  among  objects  ’ (136).  ‘ What, 
then,  are  the  features  of  this  relation,  which  is  of  greater 
importance  than  any  other  ? ’ Objects  considered  as 
causes  or  effects  are  (1)  contiguous ; (2)  cause  is  prior  to 


DAVID  HUME 


S3 


the  effect ; (3)  ‘ there  is  a necessary  connection  to  be 
taken  into  consideration ; ’ and  this  third  feature  is  ‘ of 
greater  importance  ’ than  the  other  two  relations,  for  con- 
tiguity of  place  and  priority  in  time  are  not  peculiar  to 
the  relation  under  consideration.  When  we  speak  of  the 
necessity  of  a cause , and  when  the  recognition  of  this 
necessity  stimulates  our  enquiry  and  regulates  our  reason- 
ing, there  seems  an  ultimate  principle  which  impressions 
and  their  ideas  do  not  originate. 

Pressed  by  this  difficulty,  Hume  devotes  a section  of 
the  Treatise  to  the  question,  ‘ Why  a cause  is  always 
necessary’  (I.  iii.  3,  p.  141).  ‘It  is  a general  maxim  in 
philosophy  that  whatever  begins  to  exist  must  have  a 
cause  of  existence.  This  is  commonly  taken  for  granted 
in  all  reasonings  without  any  proof  given  or  demanded. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  founded  on  intuition,  and  to  be  one 
of  those  maxims  which,  though  they  may  be  denied  with 
the  lips,  it  is  impossible  for  men  in  their  hearts  really  to 
doubt  of  ’ (142).  This  is  very  different  from  fastening 
the  eyes  on  ‘ particular  effects,’  and  thereafter  searching 
for  their  ‘ particular  causes.’  When  we  say  that  ‘ a cause 
is  always  necessary,’  we  maintain  a general  truth  which 
cannot  be  established  by  any  number  of  particulars,  or 
even  by  a whole  lifetime  of  experience.  The  recognition 
of  the  maxim,  and  the  search  for  a particular  cause 
adequate  to  account  for  a particular  effect,  are  exercises 
of  mind  quite  distinct,  the  one  implying  certainty,  the 
other  ignorance,  which  can  be  dispelled  only  by  observa- 
tion. Hume’s  enquiry  is  concerned  with  the  former  of 
these  questions,  the  warrant  for  the  general  maxim  ‘ that 
whatever  begins  to  exist  must  have  a cause,’  and  the 


54 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


claim  that  this  maxim  is  held  by  men  ‘ without  any  proof 
given  or  demanded.’  His  method  is  to  ‘ examine  this 
maxim  by  the  idea  of  knowledge  above  explained,’  that 
‘ nothing  is  ever  really  present  with  the  mind  but  its 
perceptions,  or  impressions  and  ideas.’  But  this  maxim 
cannot  be  included  among  impressions ; we  seem  in 
danger  of  making  a theory  the  test  of  fact,  rather  than 
fact  the  test  of  theory.  ‘ All  certainty  arises  from  the 
comparison  of  ideas,  and  from  the  discovery  of  such  rela- 
tions as  are  unalterable,  so  long  as  the  ideas  continue  the 
same’  (142).  These  relations  are,  resemblance,  propor- 
tions, degrees  of  quality,  and  contrariety.  None  of  these 
‘ are  implied  in  this  proposition,  Whatever  has  a beginning 
has  also  a cause  of  existence.’  What  then  ? Cause  is 
not  an  impression,  and  cannot  be  its  double.  The  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect  is  distinct  from  all  the  relations 
enumerated.  We  cannot,  indeed,  demonstrate  ‘ the 
impossibility  there  is  that  anything  can  ever  begin  to 
exist  without  some  productive  principle.’  ‘ The  general 
maxim  in  philosophy  ’ is,  however,  held  ‘ without  any 
proof  given  or  demanded.’  The  attempted  demonstra- 
tions of  Hobbes,  Clarke,  and  Locke  are  unavailing. 
Hence  it  seems  open  to  Hume  to  retreat  upon  his 
favourite  position.  ‘ Since  it  is  not  from  knowledge  or 
any  scientific  reasoning  that  we  derive  the  opinion  of  the 
necessity  of  a cause  to  every  new  production,  that  opinion 
must  necessarily  arise  from  observation  and  experience  ’ 
(147).  How,  then,  is  the  popular  opinion,  the  ‘maxim  in 
philosophy,’  the  proposition  ‘ whatever  has  a beginning 
has  also  a cause  of  existence  ’ to  be  vindicated  ? His 
course  is  a retreat  from  the  principle  to  particular  oc- 


DAVID  HUME 


55 


currences,  as  these  stand  related  to  particular  causes. 
‘ The  next  question  should  naturally  be,  how  experience 
gives  rise  to  such  a principle  ? But  as  I find  it  will  be 
more  convenient  to  sink  this  question  in  the  following, 
Why  we  conclude  that  such  particular  causes  must 
necessarily  have  such  particular  effects,  and  why  we 
form  an  inference  from  one  to  another  ? we  shall  make 
that  the  subject  of  our  future  enquiry.  It  will,  perhaps, 
be  found  in  the  end  that  the  same  answer  will  serve  for 
both  questions  ’ (p.  148). 

This  expectation,  sounding  oddly  from  one  who  pro- 
fesses only  a knowledge  of  particulars  in  experience, 
appears  at  the  close  of  section  3 of  the  third  Part  of  the 
Treatise , and  not  till  section  14  do  we  reach  ‘ the  idea  of 
necessary  connexion’  (p.  272).  These  120  pages  are 
occupied  with  discussions  as  to  the  characteristics  of  our 
reasonings,  dependence  on  memory,  probability,  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  opinion  or  belief  joined  to  conceptions  of 
things,  custom,  operating  in  an  oblique  and  artificial 
manner,  influence  of  contiguity  and  resemblance  as 
assisting  the  conception  of  cause  and  effect,  formation 
of  general  rules,  credulity,  effects  of  education,  influence 
of  belief,  perception  of  pain  and  pleasure,  the  idea  of 
good  and  evil  as  actuating  the  will,  effects  on  the  imagina- 
tion, mixture  of  truth  and  falsehood,  likelihood  and 
probability,  the  slow  steps  by  which  our  judgment  arrives 
at  a full  assurance,  strong  tendency  to  continue  in  an 
accepted  course,  direct  and  subsidiary  or  oblique  influence 
of  habit,  transference  of  the  past  to  the  future ; ‘ all 
reasonings  are  nothing  but  the  effects  of  custom.’ 

From  this  extended  discussion  it  will  be  enough  to 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


56 

select  the  references  to  causality,  which  will  enable  the 
reader  to  trace  the  general  line  of  thought.  Even  when 
the  mind  carries  its  reasonings  from  causes  or  effects 
beyond  objects  seen  or  remembered,  ‘ it  must  never  lose 
sight  of  them  entirely.’  ‘ We  must  establish  the  existence 
of  causes’  (148).  ‘As  to  those  impressions  which  arise 
from  the  senses,  their  ultimate  cause  is,  in  my  opinion, 
perfectly  inexplicable  by  human  reason,  and  it  will  always 
be  impossible  to  decide  with  certainty  whether  they  arise 
immediately  from  the  object,  or  are  produced  by  the 
creative  power  of  the  mind,  or  are  derived  from  the 
author  of  our  being’  (152).  ‘The  inference  we  draw 
from  cause  to  effect  is  not  derived  merely  from  a survey 
of  particular  objects’  (155).  Even  ‘contiguity  and 
succession  ’ do  not  prove  sufficient ; our  reliance  is  largely 
on  constant  conjunction,  but  this  implies  no  more  than 
this,  ‘ that  like  objects  have  always  been  placed  in  like 
relations  of  contiguity  and  succession,’  a fact  which  is 
insufficient  to  warrant  the  assertion  of  ‘ necessary  con- 
nexion ’ (157).  Thus  ‘ this  new  discovered  relation  of  a 
constant  conjuncture  seems  to  advance  us  but  very  little 
in  our  way.’  ‘ Our  memory  presents  us  only  with  a 
multitude  of  instances,’  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
‘ from  the  mere  repetition  of  any  past  impression,  even  to 
infinity,  there  never  will  arise  any  new  original  idea,  such 
as  that  of  a necessary  connexion’  (158).  The  investiga- 
tion is  thus  in  danger  of  closing  in  a recognition  of  ‘ con- 
tinuity in  nature  ’ as  a fact  in  history,  not  in  an  explanation 
of  the  philosophic  maxim.  A sense  of  helplessness  seems 
to  come  over  the  investigator,  who  is  constrained  to 
confess  that  ‘from  the  mere  repetition  of  any  past  im- 


DAVID  HUME 


57 


pression,  even  to  infinity,  there  never  will  arise  any  new 
original  idea,  such  as  that  of  a necessary  connexion  ’ 
(158).  ‘Even  after  the  observation  of  the  frequent  or 
constant  conjunction  of  objects  we  have  no  reason  to 
draw  any  inference  concerning  any  object  beyond  those 
of  experience’  (245).  The  alleged  ‘necessity’  has  dis- 
appeared, vanishing  into  the  gathering  of  unsolved 
problems,  whose  accumulation  contributes  to  the  building 
up  of  a sceptical  philosophy.  Yet  this  search  for  par- 
ticular causes  would  never  have  been  instituted  but  for 
the  belief  ‘ commonly  taken  for  granted  in  all  reasonings, 
without  any  proof  given  or  demanded,’  that  ‘ whatever 
begins  to  exist  must  have  a cause  of  existence’  (141). 
While  trusting  Experience  to  its  utmost  extent,  we  may 
possibly  be  constrained  to  admit  that  it  does  not  account 
for  all  our  thoughts.  However  far  our  observations  and 
reasonings  are  pushed,  we  cannot  complete  our  demon- 
stration. The  small  success  ‘ has  at  last  obliged 
philosophers  to  conclude  that  the  ultimate  force  and 
efficacy  of  nature  is  perfectly  unknown  to  us,  and  that 
it  is  in  vain  we  search  for  it  in  all  the  known  qualities 
of  matter’  (279).  ‘Suppose  two  objects  to  be  presented 
to  us,  of  which  the  one  is  the  cause  and  the  other  the 
effect,  it  is  plain  that  from  the  simple  consideration  of 
one  or  both  these  objects  we  shall  never  perceive  the  tie 
by  which  they  are  united  ’ (285).  All  that  can  be  said  is 
this,  that  after  ‘ a sufficient  number  of  instances  we  im- 
mediately feel  a determination  of  the  mind  to  pass  from 
one  object  to  its  usual  attendant.’  This  determination  is 
unexplained ; custom  prevails.  ‘ The  several  instances  of 
resembling  conjunctions  lead  us  into  the  notions  of  power 


58 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


and  necessity.  . . . These  instances  have  no  union  but 
in  the  mind  which  observes  them  and  collects  their  ideas. 

. . . Necessity  then  is  the  effect  of  this  observation,  and 
is  nothing  but  an  internal  impression  of  the  mind,  or  a 
determination  to  carry  our  thoughts  from  one  object  to 
another’  (289).  This  is  only  necessary  determination  of 
our  thoughts,  leaving  unexplained  our  fundamental  maxim, 

‘ the  necessity  of  a cause  for  every  occurrence.’  How  he 
regards  this  result  appears  from  these  words — ‘ I am 
sensible  that  of  all  the  paradoxes  which  I have  had,  or 
shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to  advance  in  the  course  of 
this  treatise,  the  present  one  is  the  most  violent  ’ (291). 

The  main  features  of  Hume’s  intellectual  philosophy  are 
now  before  the  reader.  Our  limits  prevent  our  dealing 
with  his  analysis  of  the  passions  and  his  theory  of  the 
basis  of  moral  distinctions.  My  leading  purpose  has  been 
to  make  clear  what  is  to  be  understood  by  Hume’s 
scepticism.  It  is  distrust  of  everything  which  transcends 
our  sensory  impressions  and  the  ‘ copies  ’ of  them.  All 
certainty  is  reduced  to  passing  impression  and  its  passing 
influence.  There  is  no  direct  evidence  as  to  the  nature 
of  matter  or  of  mind.  He  esteems  these  his  chief 
‘ discoveries  ’ in  philosophy,  the  exact  correspondence  of 
impressions  and  ideas ; that  association  of  ideas  under 
custom  is  the  utmost  reach  of  the  understanding ; that  the 
knowledge  of  a cause  is  unattainable,  and  that  ‘ the  very 
essence  of  belief  consists  in  the  force  and  vivacity  of  the 
conception.’ 

The  first  volume  of  the  Treatise  does  not  conclude 
without  acknowledgment  of  the  sense  of  his  own  perplexity 
and  misgiving,  which  has  an  autobiographic  value  of  the 


DAVID  HUME 


59 


highest  degree.  ‘ The  intense  view  of  the  manifold  con- 
tradictions and  imperfections  in  human  reason  has  so 
wrought  upon  me  and  heated  my  brain,  that  I am  ready 
to  reject  all  belief  and  reasoning,  and  can  look  upon  no 
opinion  even  as  more  probable  or  likely  than  another. 
Where  am  I,  or  what?  From  what  causes  do  I derive  my 
existence,  and  to  what  condition  shall  I return  ? Whose 
favour  shall  I court,  and  whose  anger  must  I dread? 
What  beings  surround  me,  and  on  whom  have  I any 
influence,  or  who  have  any  influence  on  me  ? I am  con- 
founded with  all  these  questions,  and  begin  to  fancy 
myself  in  the  most  deplorable  condition  imaginable, 
environed  with  the  deepest  darkness,  and  utterly  deprived 
of  the  use  of  every  member  and  faculty. 

‘Most  fortunately  it  happens  that,  since  reason  is 
incapable  of  dispelling  these  clouds,  nature  herself  suffices 
to  that  purpose  and  cures  me  of  this  philosophic  melan- 
choly and  delirium,  either  by  relaxing  this  bent  of  mind, 
or  by  some  avocation  and  lively  impression  of  my  senses, 
which  obliterate  all  these  chimeras.  I dine,  I play  a 
game  of  back-gammon ; I converse,  and  am  merry  with 
my  friends ; and  when  after  three  or  four  hours’  amuse- 
ment, I would  return  to  these  speculations,  they  appear  so 
cold,  and  strained,  and  ridiculous,  that  I cannot  find  in 
my  heart  to  enter  into  them  any  farther.’ 

Still,  ‘ I cannot  forbear  having  a curiosity  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  principles  of  moral  good  and  evil,  the 
nature  and  foundation  of  government,  and  the  cause  of 
those  several  passions  and  inclinations  which  actuate  and 
govern  me.  I am  uneasy  to  think  I approve  of  one 
object  and  disapprove  of  another  ; call  one  thing  beautiful 


6o 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


and  another  deformed ; decide  concerning  truth  and  false- 
hood, reason  and  folly,  without  knowing  on  what  prin- 
ciples I proceed’  (466-470). 

The  reception  given  to  the  Treatise  was  disappointing 
to  Hume.  It  did  not  on  its  appearance  awaken  any 
marked  interest.  But  its  effect  on  human  thought  was 
deep  and  lasting.  A new  epoch  in  philosophy  follows 
directly  from  it.  Scepticism  results  in  a stronger  faith. 
The  effect  on  philosophy  was  quickening.  Theology  was 
differently  affected.  It  was  resentful  and  actively  anta- 
gonistic. The  assault  was  delivered  from  a remote  point ; 
but,  on  that  account,  it  seemed  all  the  more  unsettling ; 
in  challenging  the  foundations  of  all  certainty,  it  threatened 
religious  faith  by  involving  all  belief  in  common  disaster. 
To  the  theologians  of  the  day,  who  were  the  most  earnest 
and  devoted  expounders  of  Christianity,  Hume  was  the 
arch-sceptic — the  adversary  of  religion.  Their  attitude 
towards  him  was,  however,  determined  more  by  their 
profound  sense  of  the  interests  involved,  and  of  the  con- 
sequences to  the  country  which  would  follow  a period  of 
unsettled  faith,  than  by  an  exact  and  far-reaching  survey  of 
his  philosophic  positions. 

In  the  region  of  philosophy,  the  result  was  altogether  a 
gain.  Hume  led  the  way  into  the  enquiry  as  to  the 
origin  of  our  impressions  and  convictions  and  habits  of 
thought.  He  opened  up  the  large  question  concerning 
the  synthesis  of  knowledge.  He  tested  empirical  philo- 
sophy by  asking  whether  all  things  are  not  involved  in 
uncertainty,  if  experience  is  only  a succession  of  sensa- 
tions, vanishing  in  less  vivid  copies.  His  research  in- 
volved constant  reference  to  objects  and  their  relations 


DAVID  HUME 


61 


and  continual  allusion  to  the  action  of  mind,  involving 
imagination,  thought,  will,  custom,  and  general  principles. 
Hume’s  references  to  the  mind  or  soul  possess  special 
interest  and  are  of  frequent  occurrence.  Of  these,  there 
are  three  which  deserve  to  be  quoted.  They  occur  when 
his  investigations  into  ‘ the  extent  and  force  of  the  human 
understanding  ’ is  far  advanced.  ‘ What  we  call  a mind 
is  nothing  but  a heap  or  collection  of  different  perceptions, 
united  together  by  certain  relations,  and  supposed,  though 
falsely,  to  be  endowed  with  a perfect  simplicity  and 
identity’  (361).  ‘The  mind  is  a kind  of  theatre  where 
several  perceptions  successively  make  their  appearance  ; 
pass,  repass,  glide  away,  and  mingle  in  an  infinite  variety  of 
postures  and  situations.  . . . The  comparison  of  the  theatre 
must  not  mislead  us.  They  are  the  successive  perceptions 
only  that  constitute  the  mind;  nor  have  we  the  most 
distant  notion  of  the  place  where  these  scenes  are  repre- 
sented or  of  the  materials  of  which  it  is  composed’  (439). 

‘ I cannot  compare  the  soul  more  properly  to  anything 
than  to  a republic  or  commonwealth,  in  which  the  several 
members  are  united  by  the  reciprocal  ties  of  government 
and  subordination,  and  give  use  to  other  persons  who 
propagate  the  same  republic  in  the  incessant  changes  of 
its  parts.  And  as  the  same  individual  republic  may  not 
only  change  its  members,  but  also  its  law  and  constitu- 
tions, in  like  manner  the  same  person  may  vary  his 
character  and  disposition,  as  well  as  his  impressions  and 
ideas,  without  losing  his  identity’  (453).*  The  sceptical 
bias  is  marked,  but  there  is  a sense  of  the  inevitable 
acknowledgment  of  an  individuality  — an  identity  of 
* These  passages  occur  thus — I.,  iv.  sec.  2 ; sec.  6 ; sec.  6. 


62 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


being  and  a power  of  direction  of  conduct.  The  breadth 
of  significance  involved  may  be  seen,  when  Hume  says  in 
preparing  the  way  for  the  quotation  last  given — ‘ The  true 
idea  of  the  human  mind  is  to  consider  it  as  a system 
of  different  perceptions  or  different  existences  which  are 
linked  together  by  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect,  and 
mutually  produce,  destroy,  influence,  and  modify  each 
other  ’ (453).  The  passages  do  not  readily  coalesce  in  a 
consistent  and  coherent  representation  of  the  understand- 
ing, but  they  come  as  near  to  each  other  as  seems 
possible  in  a sceptical  philosophy,  declaring  ‘ that  all  the 
nice  and  subtle  questions  concerning  personal  identity  can 
never  possibly  be  decided.’  The  author  does  not  escape 
the  confession  of  his  own  despair, — ‘ For  my  part,  I know 
not  what  ought  to  be  done  in  the  present  case.’  ‘ A true 
sceptic  will  be  diffident  of  his  philosophical  doubts,  as  well 
as  of  his  philosophical  conviction.’ 

Hume’s  references  to  Nature  (27,  211,  321,  374,)  will 
specially  interest  the  student  of  mental  philosophy.  His 
service  to  philosophy  was  great  even  with  ‘his  miscellaneous 
way  of  reasoning  ’ (i.,  457).  His  scepticism  gave  a fillip  to 
deeper  thought ; it  awakened  new  interest  in  the  thinking 
view  of  things ; it  roused  to  fresh  effort  the  men  who 
were  in  danger  of  being  satisfied  with  dogmatic  formulae. 
It  brought  a searchlight  on  Empiricism,  exposing  its 
weakness;  it  disclosed  the  large  demands  which  philo- 
sophy makes  on  Reason  ; it  lifted  the  question  as  to  ‘ the 
extent  and  force  of  the  human  understanding  ’ into  a 
position  of  first  rank  ; it  introduced  a new  epoch,  full  of 
energy,  enthusiasm,  and  expectation.  These  results  came 
slowly  ; we  cannot  wonder  that  the  author  was  disconcerted 


DAVID  HUME 


63 


and  disheartened  by  lack  of  evidence  of  their  approach ; 
but  they  came  surely ; yet  not  in  such  form  as  was  ex- 
pected by  the  pioneer,  who  whetted  his  axe  so  eagerly  and 
dealt  his  blows  with  an  energy  which  had  gathered  force 
from  daily  exercise. 

Hume’s  native  land  was  roused.  The  * Scottish  Philo- 
sophy ’ was  the  fruit  of  his  scepticism — the  philosophy  of 
‘ common  sense,’  resting  on  * principles  ’ or  essential  con- 
ditions of  the  understanding,  without  reference  to  which 
no  explanation  of  Experience  is  possible.  The  answer 
came  first,  in  critical  form,  from  another  Hume — Henry 
Home,  Lord  Kames ; more  slowly  and  systematically  from 
Reid,  Stewart,  and  Hamilton,  Scotland’s  leaders  in  the 
march  for  ‘a  thinking  view  of  things.’  A deeper  and 
more  elaborate  answer  came  from  Kant,  who  confessed 
that  he  had  been  roused  by  Hume  from  dogmatic  slumber. 
Kant’s  contribution  consisted  of  a critical  examination  of 
the  conditions  of  human  knowledge — a marvel  of  acumen, 
which  has  taxed  the  acuteness  of  later  thinkers  for  its  ex- 
position and  criticism,  and  has  given  to  the  synthesis  of 
human  knowledge  a new  meaning.  To  Hume’s  scepti- 
cism we  owe  the  transcendental  philosophy  of  Germany, 
through  all  the  developments  of  Kantian  and  Hegelian 
thought  onwards  to  ‘ the  return  upon  Kant  ’ more  recently 
proclaimed.  The  reception  of  the  Treatise  was  such  that 
he  afterwards  seemed  ‘ anxious  to  disconnect  himself  with 
the  authorship’  (Burton,  I.,  136),  or,  otherwise,  to  describe 
it  as  a ‘juvenile  work,’  ‘projected  before  he  left  college ’ 
(Advertisement  to  Essays ).  On  the  other  hand,  he  claims 
that  ‘ most  of  the  principles  and  reasonings  contained  in 
this  volume  ’ of  Essays  were  ‘ published  ’ in  the  Treatise ; 


64 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


and  then  he  adds,  ‘ not  finding  it  successful,  he  was  sen- 
sible of  his  error  in  going  to  the  press  too  early ; he  cast 
the  whole  anew  in  the  following  pieces.’  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  advantages  in  respect  of  the  more  popular 
form  of  the  Essays,  most  students  of  the  earlier  and  later 
works  will  concur  in  the  judgment  of  Huxley  as  to  their 
merits,  when  he  says,  concerning  the  Inquiry , — ‘ In  style, 
it  exhibits  a great  improvement  on  the  Treatise ; but  the 
substance,  if  not  deteriorated,  is  certainly  not  improved  ’ 
(Huxley’s  Hume , p.  n). 


CHAPTER  Y 


HUME  AS  HISTORIAN 

The  disappointment  felt  by  Hume  on  account  of  the  re- 
ception of  the  two  first  volumes  of  his  Treatise  of  Human 
Nature  did  not  daunt  him  or  abate  his  literary  activity. 
He  prepared  his  third  volume,  Of  Morals , which  was 
published  in  1740.  Thereafter,  he  carried  through  the 
preparation  of  the  Essays,  presenting  his  theory  in  more 
popular  form,  and  including  literary  and  political  essays 
along  with  philosophical.  These  he  published  in  1742. 

He  sought,  however,  some  wider  range  of  effort,  on 
which  he  might  concentrate  ; and  he  found  it  in  History, 
to  which  he  forthwith  devoted  himself  with  the  greatest 
ardour.  In  this  department  of  research,  he  shewed  his 
breadth  of  interest,  his  profound  reflection  on  social  and 
political  problems,  and  his  acuteness  on  economic  ques- 
tions— the  last  being  so  marked  that  Macaulay  has  said  of 
him  that  he  was  ‘ undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  profound 
political  economists  of  his  time.’  * 

Hume’s  merits  as  a philosopher  were,  indeed,  to  some 
extent  a disadvantage  to  him  as  a historian.  Philosophic 
interests  were  not  allowed  to  abate  carefulness  in  research, 
but  these  induced  him  to  enter  into  general  problems 

* Macaulay’s  History  of  England,  People’s  Ed.,  II.,  399. 

E 6S 


66 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


more  than  was  always  advantageous  to  the  narrative,  or 
demanded  by  the  historic  spirit.  He  seems  to  have  been 
conscious  of  this  danger,  for  he  remarks  upon  it,  as  one 
of  the  things  clear  to  him,  that  the  sceptical  form  of  his 
philosophic  inquiries  must  not  be  allowed  to  influence 
his  historical  writing.  When  full  of  delight  over  the  com- 
pletion of  the  first  volume  of  his  History  (1754),  he  writes 
to  a friend  who  ‘ had  entertained  apprehensions  of  his  dis- 
cretion,’ explaining  that  he  had  written  for  the  people,  and 
he  is  at  pains  to  say  that  he  had  ‘ thought  that  scepticism 
was  not  in  its  place  in  an  historical  production  ’ (Burton’s 
Life , I.,  397).  If  the  admission  is  not  altogether  favour- 
able to  his  philosophy,  it  does  honour  to  the  historian. 
Even  with  his  best  endeavour,  however,  he  did  not  escape 
from  a tendency  to  undervalue  the  earnest  convictions  of 
religious  men,  and,  at  times,  to  disparage  the  rights  of  the 
people — a tendency  resulting  partly  from  sceptical,  partly 
from  political  bias.  It  must,  at  the  same  time,  be  ad- 
mitted that  his  advantages  were  considerable  from  being 
a philosopher  first  and  a historian  afterwards.  Without 
losing  sight  of  the  demand  for  clearness,  brightness,  and 
vivacity  of  style,  he  never  failed  to  consider  deliberately 
the  political  and  social  problems  which  were  being  worked 
out  in  history.  His  treatment  of  these  has  such  value 
that,  even  when  granting  that  the  large  mass  of  historical 
material  brought  within  reach  since  his  day  requires  large 
modification  of  his  views,  his  glowing,  and  often  eloquent, 
pages  may  be  read  with  advantage,  as  supplying  a practical 
embodiment  of  political  philosophy.  So  well  recognised 
was  this  that  Hume  won  distinction  as  ‘ the  philosophic 
historian.’ 


DAVID  HUME 


67 


In  another  sense,  these  volumes  of  history  shew  that  he 
was,  at  times,  far  from  being  philosophic.  When  dealing  with 
the  principles  involved  in  a great  national  movement,  his 
writing  is  always  suggestive;  but,  when  passing  judgment  on 
men  and  measures,  he  appears  often  as  the  partisan.  He 
felt  keenly  and  wrote  strongly,  and  was  not  infrequently 
disposed  to  give  way  to  the  bias  which  swayed  him  as  a 
politician.  This  appears  chiefly  in  his  relation  to  political 
parties,  often  indicated  in  the  History , as  it  is  avowed  in 
his  private  correspondence.  The  facts  are  now  placed 
in  stronger  light  by  the  Letters  to  William  Strahan,  for 
publication  of  which  we  are  indebted  to  Lord  Rosebery 
and  to  Dr  Birkbeck  Hill,  an  editor  at  once  competent  and 
unwearied.  This  volume  of  Letters  is  now  an  essential 
supplement  to  Burton’s  Life , and  is  specially  important 
as  bearing  on  the  History.  Hume  cherished  a strong 
antagonism  to  the  Whigs,  and  found  occasion  for  express- 
ing his  enmity  with  a modicum  of  reserve.  That  his 
party  bias  influenced  him  in  his  History  admits  of  no 
question.  He  is  himself  conscious  of  it.  Burton  admits 
the  consequent  inconsistencies  (I.,  405);  and  though 
Macaulay  goes  too  far  in  his  condemnation  of  alleged 
‘ sophistry,’  he  has  ample  warrant  for  his  charge  of  par- 
tisanship ( Edinburgh  Review,  xlvii.,  p.  359).  What  the 
philosopher’s  attitude  should  be,  Hume  clearly  indicated 
in  his  Political  Discourse  on  The  Protestant  Succession , 
when  he  said, — * It  belongs  to  a philosopher  alone,  who 
is  of  neither  party,  to  put  all  the  circumstances  in  the 
scale,  and  assign  to  each  of  them  its  proper  poise  and 
influence’  ( Political  Discourses  [1752],  p.  270).  It  is  not 
easy  to  be  quite  philosophic  and  also  resolute  in  political 


68 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


action.  His  own  representation  of  his  attitude  is  this, — 

‘ With  regard  to  politics  and  the  character  of  princes  and 
great  men,  I think  I am  very  moderate.  My  views  of 
things  are  more  conformable  to  Whig  principles ; my  re- 
presentations of  persons  to  Tory  prejudices.  Nothing  can 
so  much  prove  that  men  commonly  regard  more  persons 
than  things,  as  to  find  that  I am  commonly  numbered 
among  the  Tories’  (Burton,  II.,  n).  When  the  keenness 
of  Hume’s  antagonism  to  the  leaders  of  the  Commons  in 
the  time  of  Charles  I.  is  considered,  this  admission  must 
be  remembered,  that  they  were  ‘ a set  of  men  of  the  most 
uncommon  capacity  and  the  largest  views  ’ ( History , vol. 
vi.,  p.  184,  ed.  1813).  In  writing  to  his  publisher,  he 
says,  ‘ I think  I have  kept  clear  of  party  in  my  History  ’ 
( Letters  to  Strahan,  p.  32).  There  is,  however,  reason 
to  sympathise  with  Macaulay’s  criticism  of  the  History 
( Edinburgh  Review , vol.  lxvii.), — ‘ Though  a great  work, 
drawn  by  a master  hand,  it  has  all  the  lights  Tory,  and  all 
the  shades  Whig.’ 

Granting  that  serious  deductions  are  to  be  made  from 
its  claim  to  authority,  his  History  is  ‘ a great  work,’  pos- 
sessing high  value  for  present-day  readers,  equally  on 
account  of  its  vivid  descriptions  of  grand  events  and  of 
its  philosophic  insight.  His  devotion  to  historical  re- 
search is  beyond  all  praise.  He  searches  unweariedly 
through  books,  parliamentary  reports,  and  other  sources 
of  information.  He  corresponds  with  specialists  on  ques- 
tions of  perplexity,  as,  for  example,  when  seeking  to  ascer- 
tain the  value  of  ‘subsidies’  at  different  periods  in  our 
Parliamentary  history.  And  he  persists,  with  surprising 
constancy  and  care,  in  the  revision  of  successive  editions 


DAVID  HUME 


69 


of  his  writings ; so  that  it  is  not  without  solid  foundation 
that  he  keeps  repeating  his  claims  to  confidence  and 
honour.  ‘I  certainly  deserve  the  approbation  of  the 
public  from  my  care  and  disinterestedness,  however  de- 
ficient in  other  particulars  ’ ( Letters  to  Strahan,  p.  1 ). 
His  election  to  the  office  of  Librarian  in  the  Advocates’ 
Library,  Edinburgh,  had  this  special  attraction  for  him, 
that  it  gave  him  unrestricted  ‘ command  of  a large 
library,’  — a storehouse  of  materials  for  the  historian. 
At  the  same  time,  this  election  had  a transitory  interest 
which  he  keenly  relished ; he  was  brimful  of  delight  be- 
cause he  had  triumphed  over  the  social  forces  in  the  city, 
opposed  to  him  avowedly  on  account  of  his  sceptical 
philosophy. 

His  ideal  of  history  was  lofty,  and  was  kept  well  in 
view,  even  though  occasionally  beclouded  by  political 
bias.  ‘ History,  the  great  mistress  of  wisdom,  furnishes 
examples  of  all  kinds ; and  every  prudential,  as  well  as 
moral  precept,  may  be  authorised  by  those  events, 
which  her  enlarged  mirror  is  able  to  present  to  us  ’ 
{History,  chap,  lix.,  vol.  vii.,  p.  T38,  ed.  1813). 
The  philosopher  and  historian  are  at  one  in  such  an 
utterance.  Along  with  it  may  be  quoted  a passage  from 
the  introduction  to  his  Treatise , — ‘ However  other  nations 
may  rival  us  in  poetry,  and  excel  us  in  some  other  agree- 
able arts,  the  improvements  in  reason  and  philosophy  can 
only  be  owing  to  a land  of  toleration  and  of  liberty.’  He 
felt  proud  in  being  one  of  a group  of  Scotchmen  who  had 
devoted  themselves  to  history, — ‘ I believe  this  is  the 
historical  age,  and  this  the  historical  nation  ’ {Letters  to 
Strahan,  p.  155). 


70 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


For  his  first  effort,  Hume  selected  the  Stuart  Period, 
including  in  his  first  volume  the  reigns  of  James  and 
Charles  I.  His  attraction  to  the  period  was  found  in 
its  comparative  nearness  to  his  own  time,  and  in  the 
wealth  of  material  which  lay  ready  to  hand.  Subsidiary 
was  the  pride  in  Scotland’s  honour  in  giving  a monarch 
to  England,  and  the  vital  concern  which  Scotland  felt  in 
the  progress  of  the  United  Kingdom.  The  selection 
nevertheless  involved  the  historian  in  special  difficulties, 
special  to  the  times  as  involving  the  perplexing  occur- 
rences which  led  up  to  the  Revolution,  special  to  the 
writer  on  account  of  religious  questions  being  so  deeply 
involved  in  the  conflict  between  the  Commons  and  the 
Crown.  Hume  faced  his  difficulties  with  philosophic 
deliberation,  if  also  with  admixture  of  keen  personal  feel- 
ing. When  the  first  volume  appeared  in  1754,  it  raised 
a storm  of  criticism,  which  the  philosopher  braved  with 
some  sense  of  irritation.  When  the  second  volume  ap- 
peared in  1756,  including  the  period  from  the  death  of 
Charles  I.  to  the  Revolution,  it  was  received  with  much 
more  favour.  These  two  volumes  gave  him  celebrity,  far 
beyond  anything  achieved  by  his  philosophic  works ; from 
their  appearance  he  ranked  as  a great  public  man,  who 
did  honour  to  his  country,  and  who  had  written  with  a 
power  and  vividness  of  description  which  went  to  the 
heart  of  the  people,  and  made  references  to  his  writings 
familiar  in  the  arena  of  Parliament,  and  in  the  private 
correspondence  of  the  leading  politicians  of  the  day. 
That  Hume  was  a man  of  strong  political  bias  made  the 
references  the  more  numerous  and  telling;  and  if  he 
was  rendered  famous  in  his  day,  he  suffered  a penalty 


DAVID  HUME 


7i 


attending  on  fame ; he  had  to  wince  under  an  attack 
from  Chatham,  delivered  with  force  of  eloquence  in  the 
House  of  Lords. 

After  the  storm  of  criticism  had  ceased,  it  appeared 
that  the  second  volume  had  been  the  more  popular. 
Hume’s  own  judgment  was  at  variance  with  the  award  of 
his  critics.  ' I must  own  that  in  my  private  judgment  the 
first  volume  of  my  History  is  by  far  the  best ; the  subject 
was  more  noble,  and  admitted  both  of  greater  ornaments 
of  eloquence  and  nicer  distinctions  of  reasoning.  How- 
ever, if  the  public  is  so  capricious  as  to  prefer  the  second, 
I am  very  well  pleased,  and  hope  the  prepossession  in  my 
favour  will  operate  backwards  and  remove  even  the  pre- 
judices formerly  contracted  ’ ( Letters  to  Strahan,  p.  4). 
The  adverse  judgment  pronounced  on  the  first  volume 
concentrated  mainly  on  the  defence  of  Charles  against  the 
demands  of  the  people.  His  defence  of  the  kingly  pre- 
rogative was  the  more  resented  that  it  was  manifestly  at 
variance  with  many  of  his  avowed  political  maxims. 
Even  after  all  has  been  said  as  to  his  reasonings,  his 
moral  sentiment,  and  his  eloquence,  it  must  be  granted 
that  his  sympathy  with  Charles  as  a brave  man,  sorely 
driven  and  tried,  carried  him  to  an  altitude  of  antagonism 
to  popular  rights  at  variance  with  his  deeper  and  life-long 
convictions.  Burton,  who  shews  the  utmost  favour  for 
Hume,  admits  that  his  published  opinions  were  strangely 
at  variance  with  much  of  the  writing  in  the  first  volume  of 
the  History.  ‘ In  his  philosophical  examination  of  the 
principles  of  government,  written  in  times  of  hot  party 
feeling,  he  had  discarded  the  theories  of  arbitrary  pre- 
rogative and  divine  right  with  bold  and  calm  disdain’ 


72 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


{Life  of  Hume,  I.,  402).  The  current  of  his  thought  went 
strongly  against  regal  domination  • his  sympathy  was 
avowedly  with  ‘ the  sentiments  of  liberty,  honour,  equity, 
and  valour’  {History,  I.,  178,  ed.  1821).  He  granted 
as  to  the  leaders  of  the  Commons,  that  ‘ these  generous 
patriots,’  ‘ animated  with  a warm  regard  to  liberty,’  aimed 
only  at  ‘ reducing  the  prerogative  within  more  reasonable 
compass’  {History,  VI.,  p.  184,  ed.  1863).  In  view  of 
these  declarations,  we  cannot  wonder  at  Jeffrey’s  criticism 
— ‘ that  he  should  have  sided  with  the  Tudors  and  the 
Stuarts  against  the  people  seems  quite  inconsistent  with 
the  great  traits  of  his  character  ’ {Edinburgh  Review,  xii., 
276). 

The  explanation  is  not  found  in  any  change  of  opinion, 
or  in  any  conclusion  slowly  reached  after  deliberate  criti- 
cism, or  in  finer  appreciation  of  the  difficulties  belonging 
to  the  period  of  political  development  in  our  rational 
history,  or  in  blindness  to  the  merits  of  the  popular 
leaders,  or  to  the  demerits  of  the  kings.  The  key  seems 
to  be  found  in  certain  outstanding  characteristics  of  the 
philosophic  historian;  first,  the  excess  of  philosophic 
indifference,  or  ‘ candid  indifference,’  which  he  specially 
commends  and  reckons  as  rare  (see  History,  vol.  vi.,  p.  12); 
second,  in  his  enmity  against  ‘ zealots,’  political  and 
religious ; and,  further  (perhaps  most  of  all),  in  his  dread 
of  outbursts  of  excited  feeling  among  the  populace, — ‘the 
enthusiastic  fire  which  afterwards  set  the  whole  nation  in 
combustion’  {History,  vol.  vi.,  269,  ed.  1813).  These 
seem  to  me  the  causes,  the  force  of  which  can  be  allowed 
without  approval  of  their  influence  on  the  History.  The 
result  was  a singular  blending  of  antipathy  and  sympathy 


DAVID  HUME 


73 


towards  the  Puritans.  It  was  occasion  of  intense  annoy- 
ance to  Hume  to  find  that  ‘ the  enquiries  and  debates 
concerning  tonnage  and  poundage  went  hand  in  hand 
with  theological  or  metaphysical  controversies,’  touching 
‘ subjects  where  it  is  not  allowable  for  human  nature  to 
expect  any  positive  truth  or  certainty.’  It  is  easy  to 
imagine  the  intense  wrath  of  Hume  against  ‘the  puri- 
tanical sectaries.’  There  must  have  been  much  show  of 
spirit  when  he  was  dealing  with  such  subjects,  inducing 
temporary  forgetfulness  of  lofty  prerogative,  and  of  the 
forces  of  the  Court  of  High  Commission  and  the  Star 
Chamber.  His  antipathy  flashes  out  with  fury  against 
Cromwell,  from  his  first  appearance  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Oliver  Cromwell,  ‘complaining  of  one  who,  he 
was  told,  preached  flat  popery,’  receives  from  Hume  this 
slighting  remark  — ‘It  is  amusing  to  observe  the  first 
words  of  this  fanatical  hypocrite  correspond  so  exactly 
to  his  character’  ( History , VI.,  248).  The  age  which 
has  gained  possession  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  Letters  and 
Speeches  is  incapable  of  accepting  the  word  ‘ hypocrite  ’ 
as  applicable  to  the  hero  of  the  great  struggle  of  the 
Puritans ; and  this  ‘ young  man  of  no  account  in  the 
nation  ’ afterwards  wins  from  Hume  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  a ‘rough  but  dexterous  hand,’  and  of  ‘the 
unparalleled  greatness  which  he  afterwards  attained ' 
( History , VII.,  97)  — a leader  in  an  age  ‘with  awful, 
august,  heroic  thoughts  in  its  heart,  and  at  last  with 
steel  sword  in  its  hand  ’ (Carlyle’s  Cromwell , intro., 
vol.  i.,  p.  68). 

The  first  volume  of  the  History  called  forth  an  anony- 
mous volume — Letters  on  Mr  Hume’s  History  of  Great 


74 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Britain — published  in  Edinburgh  in  1756,  and  generally 
attributed  to  Daniel  Macqueen,  D.D.  The  volume  is 
devoted  to  a criticism  of  Hume’s  treatment  of  religion. 
These  letters  arose  out  of  a discussion  of  the  merits  of  the 
History  at  a social  gathering.  Their  criticism  is  directed 
mainly  against  two  passages,  in  which  Hume  dwells  on 
‘ two  species  of  religion  — the  superstitious  and  the 
fanatical.’  The  former  is  illustrated  in  the  Romish  Church, 
the  latter  in  the  Reformed.  The  author  proposes  ‘ candid 
and  calm  debate,’  and  proceeds  to  set  forth  his  complaint 
against  ‘the  author’s  indecent  excursions  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion,  the  genius  of  the  Protestant  faith,  and  the 
characters  of  the  first  reformers  ’ (p.  4).  He  vindicates 
‘ the  right  of  private  judgment  in  all  matters  of  religion,’ 
with  the  rejection  of  ‘ splendour  and  glittering  pomp  of 
worship,’  and  claims  for  the  reformed  faith  deliverance  of 
men  from  the  ‘delusion  of  an  over-heated  imagination.’ 
This  formal  criticism  was  in  harmony  with  a very  wide 
expression  of  dissatisfaction.  Its  prevalence  affected  the 
mind  of  Hume,  and  in  course  of  his  corrections,  and  the 
adjustment  of  the  volume  to  its  place  in  a more  extended 
plan,  his  references  to  religion  are  modified,  and  the  more 
offensive  passages  concerning  the  reformers  and  their 
beliefs  disappear.  In  a letter  to  Dr  Clephane  he  says — 
‘ I am  convinced  that  whatever  I have  said  of  religion 
should  have  received  more  softenings.  There  is  no  pas- 
sage in  the  History  which  strikes  in  the  least  at  Revela- 
tion. But  as  I run  over  all  the  sects  successively,  and 
speak  of  each  with  some  disregard,  the  reader,  putting  the 
whole  together,  concludes  that  I am  of  no  sect,  which  to 
him  will  appear  the  same  thing  as  the  being  of  no  religion  ’ 


DAVID  HUME 


75 


(Burton’s  Life , II.,  p.  io).  Burton,  remarking  on  his 
‘consciousness  that  some  apology  was  called  for,’  gives 
the  ‘ draft  of  a preface  ’ to  his  second  volume,  the  sub- 
stance of  which  was  ultimately  inserted  as  a note  towards 
the  end  of  that  volume.  In  this  he  says — ‘ It  ought  to  be 
no  matter  of  offence  that  in  this  volume,  as  well  as  in  the 
foregoing,  the  mischief  which  arose  from  the  abuses  of 
religion  are  so  often  mentioned,  while  so  little  in  com- 
parison is  said  of  the  salutary  consequences  which  result 
from  true  and  genuine  piety.’  In  a few  carefully  chosen 
paragraphs  he  explains  and  vindicates  ‘ the  free  and 
impartial  manner  in  which  he  has  treated  religious  con- 
troversy ’ (Burton,  II.,  p.  n). 

When  Hume  escapes  from  direct  contact  with  those 
whom  he  regarded  as  ‘ enraged  and  fanatical  reformers,’ 
and  contemplates  the  progress  of  civil  and  religious  liberty, 
his  judgment  and  better  feeling  come  out  in  a different 
phase.  Then  he  acknowledges  that  ‘ the  precious  spark 
of  liberty  had  been  kindled,  and  was  preserved  by  the 
Puritans  alone.’  ‘ It  is  to  them  that  the  English  owe  the 
whole  freedom  of  their  constitution.’  These  utterances 
must  be  kept  before  us  when  we  form  our  judgment  of 
his  account  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  Throughout  both 
volumes  on  the  Stuart  dynasty  there  runs  a strong  bias  in 
favour  of  the  monarchs  with  whom  the  people  were  at 
variance.  While  he  allows  that  ‘ the  views  of  the  popular 
leaders  were  more  judicious  and  profound  ’ than  those  of 
the  Court  favourites,  he  seems  willing  to  defer  to  the  lofty 
admonition  of  a king  who  claims  to  be  superior  ‘ by 
nature,’  and  takes  such  a view  of  popular  rights  as  to  be 
disposed  to  write  in  terms  such  as  these — ‘ To  be  sacrificed 


76 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


to  the  interest,  policy,  and  ambition  of  the  great  is  so 
much  the  common  lot  of  the  people  that  they  may 
appear  unreasonable  who  would  pretend  to  complain 
of  it’  ( History , chap,  li.,  vol.  vi.,  2 15-2 17,  ed.  1813, 
referring  to  the  discontent  which  prevailed  at  the  as- 
sembling of  Charles’  third  Parliament).  When  the 
complications  thicken,  and  Charles,  after  the  rupture 
with  the  Parliament,  is  encountering  evil  days,  and  at 
length  is  a captive,  and  the  army  is  dominant  over 
Parliament,  Hume’s  horror  is  such  that  he  finds  it  a 
hard  task  ‘ to  put  all  the  circumstances  in  the  scale, 
and  assign  to  each  of  them  its  proper  poise  and  in- 
fluence.’ The  wrong-doings  of  Charles  are  forgotten, 
and  his  woes  make  powerful  appeal  to  the  feelings  of 
the  historian — with  the  terrible  scenes  vividly  present 
to  his  imagination,  and  his  feelings  roused  to  passionate 
sympathy,  he  is  by  many  subtle  influences  drawn  to 
the  position  of  a partisan  without  being  able  to  maintain 
the  critical  spirit  for  which  he  was  distinguished.  He 
was  not  abandoning  the  popular  cause  and  assuming 
the  responsibility  of  the  vindicator  of  kingly  oppres- 
sion ; but  he  was  ready  to  argue  that  ‘ it  is  seldom  that 
the  people  gain  anything  by  revolutions  in  Government  ’ 
(chap,  lix.,  vol.  vii.,  107,  ed.  1813)  ; and  to  maintain 
that  ‘ Government  is  instituted  in  order  to  restrain  the 
fury  and  injustice  of  the  people ; and  being  always 
founded  on  opinion,  not  on  force,  it  is  dangerous  to 
weaken,  by  these  speculations,  the  reverence  which 
the  multitude  owe  to  authority,  and  to  instruct  them 
beforehand  that  the  case  can  ever  happen,  when  they  may 
be  freed  from  their  duty  of  allegiance  ’ (vii.,  136).  When 


DAVID  HUME 


77 


these  springs  of  feeling  have  been  traced  and  noted,  we 
have  the  secret  of  Hume’s  treatment  of  the  Stuart  dynasty. 
Allowing  for  the  immense  difference  which  separates 
dethronement  from  execution ; and  granting  that  Hume 
has  reason  for  his  strong  condemnation  of  the  latter,  we  are 
still  surprised  to  find  what  we  should  hardly  have  expected 
from  ‘ the  philosophic  historian,’  a fear  of  open  discussion, 
and  apprehension  of  the  results  if  the  people  are  allowed 
to  pass  from  leading  strings.  After  considering  the  sad 
issue  of  the  conflict  between  the  royal  prerogative  and  the 
liberty  of  the  people,  and  specially  of  Parliament,  he  is 
prepared  to  admit  that  one  is  ‘ at  a loss  to  determine  what 
conduct  in  the  king’s  circumstances  could  have  maintained 
the  authority  of  the  crown,  and  preserved  the  peace  of  the 
nation  ’ (vii.,  p.  135). 

But,  apart  from  his  opinions  on  the  subjects  named,  the 
historic  spirit  and  power  of  the  author  are  fitted  to 
awaken  high  admiration.  His  appreciation  of  Charles’ 
fidelity  to  his  friends  and  of  his  acuteness  in  carrying  out 
negotiations  with  the  Parliamentary  leaders ; his  descrip- 
tion of  the  king’s  interview  with  his  family,  and  of  his 
noble  and  courageous  bearing  in  meeting  a violent  death, 
are  outstanding  examples  of  high  excellence  in  historic 
writing. 

His  scheme  advanced  to  more  extended  proportions  as 
his  interest  developed.  He  passed  back  to  include  the 
Tudors,  publishing  in  1759,  two  volumes  on  The  History 
of  England  under  the  House  of  Tudor.  Thereafter  he  con- 
templated a complete  history,  the  earliest  period  coming 
last  in  the  order  of  treatment.  The  result  was  The  His- 
tory of  England  from  the  invasion  of  Julius  Ccesar  to  the 


78 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


accession  of  Henry  VII,  in  two  volumes,  published  in 
1761.  These  separate  works  were  subsequently  revised 
and  combined,  presenting  Hume’s  History  of  England 
as  we  are  now  familiar  with  it  in  the  eight  volume 
editions. 

The  work  of  composition,  revision,  and  reconstruction 
was  carried  out  with  the  utmost  care  and  with  unceasing 
interest.  The  conditions  of  work  are  full  of  interest  now. 
He  was  constantly  negotiating  for  ‘ franks  ’ under  which 
he  could  convey  manuscript  without  charge  ; and  when  he 
had  a new  volume  or  a large  mass  of  revised  material,  he 
announces  by  post  to  his  publisher  in  London  that  ‘ it 
will  be  put  into  the  stage  coach  in  two  white  iron  boxes,’ 
or  will  be  put  into  ‘ the  fly  ’ on  a given  date,  and  may  be 
looked  for  ‘ about  three  weeks  hence.’  On  the  first 
negotiation  for  appearance  of  the  History , Hamilton,  the 
Edinburgh  publisher,  writes  to  Strahan,  the  London 
publisher,  ‘ we  have  been  at  due  pains  to  inform  ourselves 
of  the  merit  of  the  work,  and  are  well  satisfied  on  that  head 
that  it  is  the  pettiest  thing  that  ever  was  attempted  in  the 
English  History  ’ ( letters  to  Strahan,  p.  3).  After  its 
value  had  been  tested  by  the  sale  of  successive  editions, 
Strahan  urges  the  extension  of  the  History.  Writing  in 
1771,  Strahan  says — ‘ If  you  write  another  volume,  which 
the  best  judges  of  writing  are  daily  enquiring  after,  you  may 
demand  what  you  please.  It  shall  be  granted  ’ ( Letters 
to  Strahan,  p.  198).  Again  in  1772  Strahan  writes  sug- 
gesting motives  for  the  continuation  of  the  History,  ‘in 
which  if  you  will  make  some  progress,  however  trifling,  I 
will  venture  to  say  you  will  find  your  immediate  account 
in  it  ’ (lb.,  p.  243).  And  once  more,  in  August  1766, 


DAVID  HUME 


79 


Strahan  writes — ‘ Your  History  sells  better  of  late  years 
than  before ; for  the  late  edition  will  be  gone  some  time 
before  this  can  be  finished.  In  short,  I see  clearly  your 
reputation  is  gradually  rising  in  the  public  esteem  ’ (lb., 
34°). 


CHAPTER  VI 


HUME  IN  THE  GOVERNMENT  SERVICE 

When  Hume  had  reached  the  age  of  fifty-two  he  had 
achieved  fame,  and  was  in  possession  of  resources  which 
made  him  comparatively  independent.  He  was  settled  in 
Edinburgh  in  his  house  in  James  Court,  overlooking  the 
‘ Nor’  Loch,’  and  having  a wide  sweep  of  view,  stretching 
over  the  fields  and  across  the  Firth  of  Forth  to  the  shores 
of  Fife.  His  mind  was  full  of  the  prospect  of  learned 
leisure,  of  quiet  days,  and  of  jovial  evenings  among  a 
circle  of  choice  friends.  This  was  the  reward  of  these 
long  years  of  literary  labour  through  which  he  had  toiled 
unceasingly  ; now  he  meant  to  enjoy  well-earned  rest — 
possibly  spending  his  days  in  ‘idleness  and  sauntering, 
and  society  ’ — a vision  which  had  often  floated  attractively 
before  his  eyes. 

But  suddenly  a new  prospect  opened  in  manner  and 
form  unexpected.  In  1763,  the  Earl  of  Hertford  was 
appointed  Ambassador  to  the  French  Court ; the  secretary 
nominated  to  the  Embassy  was  unacceptable  to  him,  but, 
being  highly  connected,  he  could  not  be  removed  until  a 
favourable  opening  offered.  In  these  circumstances  the 
Earl  looked  around  for  a secretary  who  should  be  his  own 
nominee.  To  the  surprise  of  Hume,  he  received  from 
&> 


DAVID  HUME 


81 


the  Earl  of  Hertford  a proposal  that  he  should  act  in  the 
capacity  of  secretary.  Hume’s  picture  of  his  future  had 
been  so  different  from  this  that  after  his  first  sense  of  sur- 
prise, and  satisfaction  with  the  honour  done  him,  had 
passed  away,  he  felt  reluctant  to  move.  He  has  thus 
described  the  situation.  ‘ I was  become  not  only  inde- 
pendent but  opulent,  I retired  to  my  native  country  of 
Scotland,  determined  never  more  to  set  my  foot  out  of  it. 
As  I was  now  turned  of  fifty,  I thought  of  passing  all  the 
rest  of  my  life  in  this  philosophical  manner,  when  I re- 
ceived an  invitation  from  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  with  whom 
I was  not  in  the  least  acquainted,  to  attend  him  on  his 
embassy  to  Paris  with  a near  prospect  of  being  appointed 
secretary  to  the  embassy ; and,  in  the  meanwhile,  of  per- 
forming the  functions  of  that  office  ’ (My  Own  Life). 

This  offer  of  an  official  position  is  in  itself  matter  of 
much  interest,  as  shewing  the  impression  Hume  had 
made  on  the  Parliamentary  and  official  circle  in  the 
United  Kingdom.  To  his  recognised  distinction  as  a 
philosophic  historian,  the  invitation  from  the  Ambassador 
was  due.  The  Earl  of  Hertford  had  no  direct  know- 
ledge of  Hume ; he  was  a nobleman  of  ‘ decorum  and 
piety  ’ ; so  that  his  selection  of  the  philosophic  historian, 
who  was  traditionally  the  philosophical  sceptic,  shews 
how  high  was  the  confidence  he  had,  not  only  in  his 
political  sagacity,  but  also  in  his  moral  character.  Hume 
felt  the  stimulating  force  of  the  selection,  and  with  sense 
of  the  humour  of  the  situation,  he  quotes  with  naive  satis- 
faction the  words  of  his  friend  Elliot,  that  ‘were  he  to 
be  proposed  for  the  see  of  Lambeth  no  objection  could 
henceforth  be  made  to  him  ’ (Burton,  II.,  159). 


F 


82 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Hume  declined  the  offer  when  first  submitted.  The 
reasons  given  in  My  Own  Life  are  these, — ‘ because  I 
was  reluctant  to  begin  connections  with  the  great,  and 
because  I was  afraid  that  the  civilities  and  gay  company 
of  Paris  would  prove  disagreeable  to  a man  of  my  age 
and  humour.’  The  latter  clause  is  sufficiently  comical 
when  Hume’s  fondness  for  gaiety  and  gallantry  are  con- 
sidered ; but  it  is  the  expression  of  feeling  quite  natural 
to  him,  because  of  his  preference  for  a few  chosen  friends, 
with  whom  he  could  meet  in  unrestricted  freedom. 

The  Earl  of  Hertford  was  generous  enough  to  repeat 
his  invitation,  and  to  urge  its  acceptance.  On  this  re- 
newal of  the  request,  Hume  consented,  feeling  the  ad- 
vantage there  might  be  in  being  thus  roused  ‘from  a 
state  of  indolence  and  sloth  ’ : and  also  the  many  attrac- 
tions of  residence  in  the  French  capital.  Only  afterwards, 
when  occupied  with  preliminary  arrangements,  did  Hume 
get  to  know  why  the  proposal  did  not  come  in  the  form 
of  immediate  appointment  to  the  position  of  Secretary 
to  the  Embassy ; and  only  then  did  he  ascertain  that 
the  Earl,  in  selecting  him,  had  regard  not  only  to  his 
intellectual  and  acquired  fitness  for  the  post,  but  also 
to  the  possibility  of  his  supplying  important  aid  to 
his  son,  Lord  Beauchamp,  when  preparing  for  public 
service. 

Hume  was  specially  fortunate  in  this  entrance  on 
official  life.  There  was  no  capital  in  Europe  where 
his  writings  were  so  well  known,  and  his  philosophical 
and  political  positions  so  fully  appreciated  as  in  Paris. 
His  History  had  been  applauded  by  writers  so  dis- 
tinguished as  Voltaire  and  Rousseau ; and  the  sceptical 


DAVID  HUME 


83 


bias  of  his  philosophy  found  favour  with  the  French  of 
the  period.  Besides,  the  custom  and  fashion  of  the 
French  capital  assigned  a prominent  place  in  society 
to  literary  celebrities.  Hume  had,  in  his  literary  fame, 
his  introduction  to  the  best  society ; and  when,  besides, 
he  appeared  as  the  official  secretary  of  the  British  Am- 
bassador, his  distinction  was  magnified  in  a manner 
additionally  attractive.  The  philosopher,  who  felt  small 
attraction  to  the  society  and  the  official  circles  of  London, 
— who  in  the  freedom  and  spontaneous  exaggeration  of 
his  private  correspondence  wrote  of  ‘the  factious  bar- 
barians of  London’  (Letter  to  Robertson, — Burton,  II., 
178), — became  ready  to  burst  out  in  loud  terms  of  ad- 
miration of  the  French,  ‘observing  on  what  a different 
footing  learning  and  the  learned  are  here,  from  what 
they  are  among  the  factious  barbarians  above-mentioned.’ 
This  tendency  to  playful  exaggeration,  appearing  in 
familiar  conversation  and  correspondence,  tended  to  in- 
crease the  force  of  feeling  which  marked  a weakness  in 
our  philosopher. 

His  entrance  into  French  society  was  a novel  experience 
for  Hume.  It  was  the  triumph  of  an  illustrious  author 
and  thinker,  who,  notwithstanding  a certain  awkwardness 
of  manner,  was  found  to  be  a genial  spirit  and  a ready 
wit,  sensitive  to  the  applause  which  French  society  lavishes 
on  its  favourites.  The  ‘ Great  David  ’ became  one  of  the 
lions  of  the  noted  drawing-rooms  of  Paris.  His  first  days 
in  the  capital,  and  those  afterwards  spent  at  Fontainbleau, 
pleased  him  greatly,  introducing  him  not  only  to  the 
splendours  of  court  life,  but  to  the  lavish  applause  in 
which  the  refined  courtiers  and  ladies  of  France  indulge. 


84 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Shortly  after  his  arrival, — 26th  October  1763,  he  writes 
to  Adam  Smith, — ‘ I have  been  three  days  at  Paris  and 
two  at  Fontainbleau,  and  have  everywhere  met  with  the 
most  extraordinary  honours,  which  the  most  exorbitant 
vanity  could  wish  or  desire.’  Compliments  came  from 
the  dukes  and  mareschals  of  France,  and  flattery  of  the 
most  unrestrained  form  from  the  conspicuous  ladies  of 
Parisian  society.  He  is  at  first  disturbed  by  the  little 
speeches  which  greeted  him,  and  then  he  settled  into 
the  pleased  feeling  of  one  who  has  found  entrance 
into  a choice  circle,  and  is  welcomed  on  every  appear- 
ance. He  saw  much  of  the  grace  and  vivacity  of  the 
French  salon ; and  he  saw  besides  not  a little  of  the 
vice  in  the  midst  of  that  refinement, — saw  without  approv- 
ing,— and  without  being  dragged  into  the  vortex.  There 
was  in  Hume  a boyish  exuberance  of  feeling  when  placed 
in  circumstances  novel  and  attractive.  This  lent  piquancy 
to  the  accession  of  the  Scotchman  to  the  brilliant  drawing- 
room gatherings.  In  the  round  of  gaiety  and  display  of 
intellectual  wealth,  he  found  intense  pleasure.  The  more 
staid  feeling  of  his  reflective  hours  finds  expression  in 
the  letter  to  Adam  Smith  from  which  a quotation  has 
already  been  given.  * During  the  two  last  days,  in 
particular,  that  I have  been  at  Fontainbleau,  I have 
suffered  (the  expression  is  not  improper)  as  much  flattery 
as  almost  any  man  has  ever  done  in  the  same  time.’  But 
he  adds, — ‘ I assure  you,  I reap  more  internal  satisfaction 
from  the  very  amiable  manners  and  character  of  the 
family  in  which  I live  (I  mean  Lord  and  Lady  Hertford 
and  Lord  Beauchamp)  than  from  all  these  external 
vanities;  and  it  is  that  domestic  enjoyment  which  must 


DAVID  HUME  85 

be  considered  as  the  agreeable  circumstance  in  my  situa- 
tion’ (Burton,  II.,  171). 

Hume  discharged  the  duties  of  Secretary  to  the  British 
Embassy  with  a concentration  of  mind,  precision  in  detail, 
and  sense  of  responsibility,  which  fully  sustained  the  ex- 
pectations of  Earl  Hertford.  So  much  did  he  himself  feel 
interest  in  the  round  of  work,  that  he  writes,  after  nearly 
six  months’  experience,  ‘ Though  I have  entered  late  into 
this  scene  of  life,  I am  almost  as  much  at  my  ease,  as  if  I 
had  been  educated  in  it  from  infancy’  (Burton,  II.,  196). 
At  the  close  of  his  work,  the  Earl  spoke  with  admiration 
of  his  ‘abilities  and  ease  in  business’  ( lb .,  289). 

The  round  of  fashionable  entertainments  which  it  was 
desirable  to  accept  in  the  interests  of  the  Embassy  con- 
siderably restricted  Hume’s  opportunity  of  entering  into 
intimate  relations  with  the  learned  circles  in  Paris.  As 
opportunity  offered,  however,  he  found  occasion  and  a 
special  satisfaction  in  the  literary  gatherings.  The  more 
outstanding  names  amongst  those  whose  friendship  he 
enjoyed  are  D’Alembut,  Turgot,  Diderot,  Helbach,  Hel- 
vertius,  Buffon  and  Henault.  (For  an  account  of  French 
literary  circles  at  this  time  see  Edinburgh  Review , xv., 
459,  and  xvii.,  290.) 

Not  till  July  13th,  1765,  did  Hume  receive  his  commis- 
sion under  the  Great  Seal  as  Secretary  to  the  Embassy. 
For  more  than  a year  and  a half  he  fulfilled  all  the  duties 
of  the  office,  while  acting  only  as  the  nominee  of  the 
Ambassador.  More  than  a month  before  the  date  of  the 
commission,  when  the  tidings  reached  him  that  he  had 
been  nominated  to  the  office,  he  had  written  to  his  friend 
Elliot,  expressing  his  delight  that  he  was  now  ‘ possessed 


86 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


of  an  office  of  credit  and  of  £1200  a year.’  But  the 
honour  was  not  long  continued.  Shortly  after  Hume 
had  received  his  credentials,  Lord  Hertford  was  recalled, 
on  account  of  a change  of  Government.  The  Earl  had 
been  appointed  to  the  Embassy  by  Bute,  and  continued 
by  Grenville  (Walpole’s  Memoirs  of  Geo.  III.,  i.,  391); 
but  in  July  1765,  when  the  Rockingham  administration 
came  in,  Hertford  was  nominated  Lord-Lieutenant  of 
Ireland,  while  Conway,  his  brother,  became  Secretary  of 
State,  and  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Hume 
had  just  gained  his  official  position  when  he  learned  that 
he  must  forthwith  surrender  it.  The  change  did  not 
affect  his  distinction  in  the  eyes  of  the  French  Court 
and  of  the  leaders  of  fashion  in  Paris,  but  for  him  the 
brilliance  vanished  within  less  than  a month.  The  trouble 
of  this  was  abated  greatly  by  the  prospect  of  promotion  to 
the  rank  of  secretary  at  Dublin,  for  Hertford  indicated  not 
only  his  desire  for  this,  but  his  determination  to  secure  it. 

In  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  the  Ambassador,  Hume 
had  an  accession  of  influence  in  Paris,  along  with  seriously 
increased  responsibilities.  He  was  left  Chargd  d’Affaires, 
being  entrusted  with  the  duties  of  British  representative 
until  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  the  new  Ambassador, 
arrived.  From  July  till  October,  Hume  held  this 
position ; and  he  set  himself  to  a careful  dealing  with 
the  important  questions  which  demanded  attention. 
Lord  Brougham  had  occasion  afterwards  to  make  the 
procedure  of  the  Embassy,  during  these  months,  matter 
of  close  investigation.  We  have  his  judgment  of  it  on 
record : — ‘ By  Lord  Aberdeen’s  kindness,  I have  been 
allowed  to  examine  the  correspondence  of  the  Embassy 


DAVID  HUME 


87 


with  Marshal  Conway  during  these  four  months ; and 
it  is  highly  creditable  to  the  philosopher’s  business-like 
talents  and  his  capacity  for  affairs.  The  negotiations 
of  which  he  had  the  sole  conduct  related  to  the  im- 
portant and  interesting  discussions  of  Canada;  matters 
arising  out  of  the  cession,  by  the  Peace  of  Paris ; and 
to  the  demolition  of  the  works  at  Dunkirk,  also  stipu- 
lated by  that  treaty’  ( Lives  of  Men  of  Letters , p.  225 — 
quoted  by  Burton,  ii.,  283). 

During  this  busy  season,  Hume’s  private  interests 
concentrated  on  the  prospect  of  his  being  nominated 
to  the  office  of  Secretary  to  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ire- 
land. The  prospect  of  such  distinction  had  caused 
quite  a flutter  of  excitement  at  Ninewells ; and  was 
eagerly  watched  by  literary  friends  in  Edinburgh.  The 
Earl  of  Hertford  was  eager  for  Hume’s  transference  along 
with  him  to  Dublin,  and  used  his  influence  with  the  King 
and  the  Government,  in  face  of  the  powerful  prejudices 
against  ‘ the  free-thinker.’  But  official  traditions  were 
against  him,  and  ‘ the  official  ring  ’ prevailed.  Hertford 
had  to  yield  before  a force  which  he  could  not  resist,  and 
he  was  appeased  by  having  his  own  son,  Lord  Beauchamp, 
appointed,  of  whom  Hume  had  expressed  high  admira- 
tion. For  Hume  the  disappointment  was  great;  but 
after  turmoil  of  feeling  endured  for  a season,  and  much 
reluctance  to  part  from  Paris,  he  resolved  on  return  to 
Edinburgh,  and  to  the  quiet  of  a literary  life,  in  which  he 
found  his  satisfaction. 

The  prospect  of  a high  official  position  in  the  home 
country,  with  2000  a year,  and  growing  influence  in 
official  circles,  vanished  like  a dream,  and  with  it  well-nigh 


88 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


vanished  Hume’s  thoughts  of  Government  service.  The 
end  was  not  yet,  but  it  was  not  far  off.  He  had  felt  from 
the  first  that  he  had  started  on  the  diplomatic  service  too 
late  in  life ; and  now  he  was  not  averse  to  return  to  his 
familiar  occupations.  He  had  passed  through  a new  ex- 
perience ; he  had  tasted  a new  joy ; and  he  felt  that  his 
life  had  been  enlarged.  He  had  smarted  often,  and 
acutely  too,  under  the  prejudice  against  him  in  his 
native  land ; but  now  he  had  basked  in  the  sunshine 
of  popular  favour  in  France.  The  pleasing  experience 
had  been  valued  as  an  offset  against  the  antagonism 
which  met  him  at  home.  Now,  he  could  return  with 
his  laurels,  and,  even  more,  with  the  assurance  that  his 
literary  labours  in  Philosophy  and  in  History  had  made 
an  impression,  not  only  deeper,  but  much  wider  in  range 
than  he  had  previously  known.  He  could  not,  indeed, 
foresee  how  much  larger  his  influence  was  yet  to  be,  his 
life  would  not  last  long  enough  to  make  this  clear.  But 
he  was  happy  to  go  back  to  his  native  city — the  capital  of 
his  native  land — there  to  carry  forward  the  work  he  had 
planned,  before  the  attractions  of  the  Embassy  in  Paris 
had  been  presented  to  him.  Mr  Mure  narrates  his  return 
about  the  same  time  as  Sir  James  Stewart,  when  the  atten- 
tion of  the  passers  was  arrested  with  the  French  cut  of  the 
laced  coats  and  bags,  and  especially  with  the  philosopher’s 
‘ponderous,  uncouth  person  equipped  in  a bright  yellow 
coat  spotted  with  black.’* 

When  the  time  had  come  for  his  return  to  Edinburgh, 
the  Earl  of  Hertford  had  secured  for  him  a pension  of 
^400  a year.  In  further  acknowledgment  of  his  able 
* Caldwell  Papers,  i.,  38,  quoted  in  Letters  to  Strahan,  p.  86. 


DAVID  HUME 


89 


services  to  the  nation,  which  had  met  with  singularly 
scant  return,  he  received  in  the  following  year,  1767, 
from  Mr  Conway  ‘an  invitation  to  be  Under-Secretary.’ 
This  communication  was  followed  up  by  a letter  from 
Lady  Hertford  urging  acceptance.  ‘This  invitation,’ 
Hume  says,  ‘both  the  character  of  the  person  and  my 
connexions  with  Lord  Hertford,  prevented  me  from 
declining.’  He  had  just  been  in  Edinburgh  for  a short 
time,  busy  writing  about  his  quarrel  with  Rousseau,  and 
about  the  difficulties  emerging  with  his  publishers  as  to 
the  issue  of  his  pamphlet  in  reply  to  the  irate  Frenchman, 
when  he  had  to  make  ready  for  removal  to  London,  where 
in  the  end  of  February  1767,  he  was  installed  in  office, 
under  the  direction  of  the  Leader  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, Mr  Conway,  brother  of  Lord  Hertford.  Hume 
never  took  kindly  to  London,  and  could  not  at  first 
escape  the  feeling  of  ‘a  banished  man.’  But  he  was 
soon  again  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  official  work. 
Writing  to  Blair,  he  says,  ‘I  pass  all  the  forenoon  in 
the  Secretary’s  house  from  ten  till  three,  where  there 
arrive  from  time  to  time  messengers  that  bring  me  all 
the  secrets  of  the  kingdom,  and  indeed  of  Europe,  Asia, 
Africa,  and  America.’  To  this  he  adds,  General  Conway 
‘ is  the  most  reasonable,  equal  tempered,  and  gentleman- 
like man  imaginable.’  ‘ Only  I shall  not  regret  when  my 
duty  is  over,  because  to  me  the  situation  can  lead  to 
nothing,  at  least  in  all  probability’  (Burton,  II.,  384). 
Hume  continued  in  office  until  General  Conway  re- 
signed, which  occurred  on  20th  July  1768.  Then  he 
went  forth,  feeling  a free  man;  but  with  a circle  of 
influential  friends  with  whom  he  continued  in  intimate 


9° 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


relations.  He  did  not  leave  London  at  once;  but  we 
find  him  back  to  his  own  house  in  Edinburgh — the 
familiar  house  in  James’s  Court — in  August  1769.  He 
has  disappeared  from  the  circle  of  official  servants  of 
the  Crown,  to  resume  his  pondering  of  the  deeper 
problems  of  human  life.  In  a letter  to  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot, 
written  October  16th,  1769,  he  says: — ‘I  am  here  body 
and  soul,  without  casting  the  least  thought  of  regret  to 
London  or  even  to  Paris.’ 


CHAPTER  VII 


hume’s  attitude  as  to  religion 

Being  in  philosophy  a sceptic  as  to  all  that  transcends  in- 
dividual experience,  Hume  was  regarded  and  treated  as  a 
sceptic  in  religion.  * Hume  the  Atheist  ’ was  a designation 
of  him  not  uncommon.  Accordingly,  he  was  disliked  and 
resisted  as  the  enemy  of  religion  In  the  boldness  of  his 
spirit  he  rather  courted  antagonism  ; yet  the  sense  of  odium 
fretted  his  life,  and  often  seriously  embittered  it. 

This  traditional  view  of  his  position,  though  erroneous, 
still  lingers  among  us,  on  account  of  the  difficulty  of  dis- 
tinguishing between  a man’s  theory  and  his  faith.  To  Hume 
it  was  matter  of  satisfaction  that  ‘ our  most  holy  religion 
is  founded  on  Faith,  not  on  Reason.’  Most  Christians  will 
hold  that  faith  and  reason  are  united  in  the  religious  life ; 
and  religious  faith  at  least  is  honoured  by  Hume.  His 
scepticism  belonged  to  the  region  of  philosophy,  not  to  the 
sphere  of  religion.  No  doubt,  scepticism,  in  dealing  even 
with  the  abstruse  problems  of  the  universe,  must  in  some 
degree  react  on  faith  and  feeling.  But  in  Hume’s  life  it 
never  banished  them.  He  had  started  with  the  assump- 
tion that  certainty  depends  altogether  on  the  senses ; and 
as  the  knowledge  of  God  cannot  come  in  this  way,  religion 
was  for  him  exclusively  a matter  of  faith.  Yet  so  difficult 
is  it  for  a man  to  adhere  to  his  theory,  that  he,  supposing 

91 


92 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


himself  to  be  Epicurus,  addressing  the  Athenians,  says, 
‘ Religion  is  nothing  but  a species  of  Philosophy  ’ (Green, 
Works , IV.,  1 7 1 ; Inquiry  Concerning  Human  U?ider- 
standing,  sec.  xi.,  Of  a Particular  Providence  a?id  of  a 
Future  State,  ed.  Selby-Bigge,  section  113).  No  life  of 
Hume  can  be  accurate  which  depicts  him  as  ‘ Hume  the 
Atheist.’ 

How  his  thought  concerning  the  philosophic  interpreta- 
tion of  the  universe  widened  out  will  readily  appear  by 
reference  to  his  theory  of  morals.  In  theory  he  held  that 
utility  is  the  measure  of  rightness — a poor  enough  theory  I 
admit,  but  he  maintained  at  the  same  time  that  our  regard 
for  moral  distinctions  depends  on  ‘ a feeling  which  Nature 
has  made  universal  in  the  race.’  The  Supreme  Power 
rules  for  righteousness.  ‘ The  Deity  is  known  to  us  only 
by  his  productions.’  ‘ As  the  universe  shews  wisdom  and 
goodness,  we  infer  wisdom  and  goodness  ’ ( Inquiry  Con- 
cerning Human  Understanding,  sec.  xi.). 

Conclusive  as  this  evidence  is,  Hume  made  such  open 
and  formal  avowal  of  his  sceptical  philosophy,  as  if  it  were 
matter  of  enjoyment  to  him  to  do  so  (Burton,  II.,  443),  that 
he  was  resisted  by  the  religious  men  of  his  time  as  the  adver- 
sary of  earnest  religious  life.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was 
the  intimate  friend  of  prominent  clergymen,  such  as  Blair, 
‘Jupiter ’ Carlyle,  and  Home,  though  these  belonged  to 
the  ‘ moderate  ’ school.  Nevertheless,  of  the  intensity  of 
antagonism  to  him,  we  have  this  striking  testimony,  that 
his  most  intimate  friend,  Adam  Smith,  was  strenuously 
opposed  to  the  publication  of  his  critical  views,  and 
expressed  this  opinion  in  strongest  terms  even  after 
Hume’s  death,  when  the  question  was  raised  whether  the 


DAVID  HUME 


93 


author’s  desire  should  be  respected  as  to  the  printing 
of  the  Dialogues  on  Religion.  We  have  besides  evidence 
of  the  spirit  of  the  times  in  the  fact  that  a complaint  was 
made  against  Hume  before  the  Presbytery  of  Edinburgh 
that  he  should  be  subjected  to  discipline  for  heterodoxy ; 
this  was  formally  discussed,  but  rejected.  It  is  mainly  to 
the  impression  made  by  the  Essay  on  Miracles  that  the 
intensity  of  feeling  cherished  in  religious  circles  is  to  be 
attributed. 

In  our  day,  it  is  possible,  by  deliberate  and  critical 
investigation  of  his  writings,  to  form  a fuller  and  more 
favourable  judgment  of  his  position.  He  seriously  con- 
cealed and  beclouded  his  position,  not  only  by  the  promi- 
nence given  to  the  sceptical  element  in  his  philosophy, 
but  by  the  boldness  with  which  he  maintained  the  sceptics’ 
attitude.  To  himself  we  must  assign  a large  share  of 
responsibility  for  the  prevalence  of  the  traditional  view 
which  represented  him  as  the  enemy  of  religion.  He 
cherished  horror  of  the  ‘ Zealots  ’ ; they,  with  vastly 
greater  reason,  dreaded  that  ‘ candid  indifference  ’ which 
he  exemplified  and  commended. 

For  evidence  of  his  attitude  towards  religious  faith 
and  reverence  we  have  four  conspicuous  portions  of  his 
works  : — His  Essay  on  Miracles  ; his  Natural  History  of 
Religion  ; his  History  of  England , especially  in  the  volume 
first  published ; and  his  Dialogues  on  Religion , prepared 
with  great  care,  and  by  his  own  express  wish,  published 
only  after  his  death. 

The  history  of  the  Essay  on  Miracles  (constituting 
sec.  x.  of  Inquiry  Concerning  Human  Understanding)  is 
important.  In  My  Own  Life  the  reference  to  it  is 


94 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


only  indirect.  But  in  a letter  to  Principal  Campbell, 
author  of  Dissertation  on  Miracles , he  writes  : — ‘ It  may 
perhaps  amuse  you  to  learn  the  first  hint  which  suggested 
to  me  that  argument  which  you  have  so  strenuously 
attacked.  I was  walking  in  the  cloisters  of  the  Jesuits’ 
College  of  La  Fleche  (France),  a town  in  which  I passed 
two  years  of  my  youth,  and  engaged  in  a conversation 
with  a Jesuit,  of  some  parts  and  learning,  who  was  relating 
to  me,  and  urging  some  nonsensical  miracle  performed 
lately  in  their  convent,  when  I was  tempted  to  dispute 
against  him ; and  as  my  head  was  full  of  the  topics  of  my 
Treatise  of  Human  Nature , which  I was  at  that  time 
composing,  this  argument  immediately  occurred  to  me, 
and  I thought  it  very  much  gravelled  my  companion  ; but 
at  last  he  observed  to  me  that  it  was  impossible  for  that 
argument  to  have  any  solidity,  because  it  operated  equally 
against  the  Gospel  as  the  Catholic  miracles,  which  observa- 
tion I thought  proper  to  admit  as  a sufficient  answer.  I 
believe  you  will  allow  that  the  freedom  at  least  of  this 
reasoning  makes  it  somewhat  extraordinary  to  have  been 
the  produce  of  a convent  of  Jesuits,  though,  perhaps,  you 
may  think  the  sophistry  of  it  savours  plainly  of  the  place 
of  its  birth’  (Burton’s  Life , I.,  57).  The  origin  of  the 
suggestion  was  the  superstitious  spirit  leading  to  un- 
questioning acceptance  of  trifling  wonders,  not  a deliberate 
study  of  the  Gospel  miracles  or  even  of  the  laws  of 
evidence. 

The  argument  involves  a return  on  individual  experience 
as  the  basis  of  certainty,  as  that  may  affect  our  reliance 
on  the  testimony  of  eye-witnesses.  The  enquiry  affects 
the  value  of  our  Christian  faith  as  it  relies  on  historic 


DAVID  HUME 


95 


evidence.  The  substance  of  this  argument  is  thus  stated 
by  Hume — * Our  evidence  for  the  truth  of  the  Christian 
religion  is  less  than  the  evidence  for  the  truth  of  our 
senses  ; because  even  in  the  first  authors  of  our  religion 
it  was  no  greater;  and  it  is  evident  it  must  diminish  in 
passing  from  them  to  their  disciples  ; nor  can  anyone  rest 
such  confidence  in  their  testimony  as  in  the  immediate 
object  of  his  senses.’  Yet,  it  is  ‘ necessary  to  human  life 
to  rely  on  the  testimony  of  men,’  though  it  must  be 
granted  that  testimony  may  vary  in  value,  sometimes 
suggesting  probability,  at  others  supplying  proof.  If, 
however,  the  reported  event  is  ‘ extraordinary,’  ‘ the 
testimony  admits  of  a diminution,  greater  or  less,  in 
proportion  as  the  fact  is  more  or  less  unusual.’  When 
the  event  ‘has  seldom  fallen  under  observation,  here 
is  a contest  of  two  opposite  experiences,  of  which  the 
one  destroys  the  other,  as  far  as  its  force  goes.’  Suppose 
the  reported  event  be  ‘ miraculous,’  and  ‘ suppose  also 
that  the  testimony,  considered  apart  and  in  itself,  amounts 
to  an  entire  proof,  there  is  proof  against  proof,  of  which 
the  strongest  must  prevail.’  ‘A  miracle  is  a violation  of 
the  laws  of  nature;  and  as  a firm  and  unalterable  ex- 
perience has  established  these  laws,  the  proof  against 
a miracle,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  fact,  is  as  entire  as 
any  argument  from  experience  can  possibly  be  imagined.’ 
* Nothing  is  esteemed  a miracle  if  it  ever  happen  in  the 
common  course  of  nature.’  ‘ There  must  therefore  be  an 
uniform  experience  against  every  miraculous  event.’  ‘ The 
plain  consequence  is  (and  it  is  a general  maxim  worthy  of 
our  attention)  that  no  testimony  is  sufficient  to  establish  a 
miracle,  unless  the  testimony  be  of  such  a kind  that  its 


96 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


falsehood  would  be  more  miraculous  than  the  fact  which 
it  endeavours  to  establish.’ 

Hume  was  peculiarly  liable  to  be  attracted  by  an 
argument  such  as  this.  Its  fascination  was  great  to  a 
mind  which  had  schooled  itself  in  sceptical  criticism. 
Such  an  argument  was  to  him  like  a nugget  to  a gold- 
digger — a thing  to  boast  of  to  all  around.  Hear  his 
words  : — ‘ I flatter  myself  that  I have  discovered  an 
argument  which,  if  just,  will,  with  the  wise  and  learned, 
be  an  everlasting  check  to  all  kinds  of  superstitious 
delusion,  and  consequently  will  be  useful  as  long  as  the 
world  endures.’ 

In  one  aspect,  the  argument  is  a freak  of  ingenuity ; in 
another  and  secondary  aspect,  it  is  a substantial  contribu- 
tion towards  the  modern  view  of  uniform  sequence  under 
natural  law.  But  the  philosopher  delights  in  the  freak — 
he  is  fascinated  by  ‘ the  freedom , at  least,  of  the  reasoning,’ 
even  if  it  contain  a considerable  admixture  of  ‘sophistry.’ 
It  is  the  misfortune  of  the  sceptic  that,  being  engrossed 
with  criticism  of  other  people’s  faith,  he  does  not  suffi- 
ciently criticise  his  own.  Hume,  powerful  as  he  was, 
could  not  escape  the  consequences  of  a long  cultivated 
habit  of  enlarged  faith.  A miracle  cannot  be  directly 
vivified  by  us.  Nothing  is  more  certain ; but  so  it  is  with 
all  facts  of  history,  from  the  most  common  to  the  most 
singular.  Any  argument  on  this  account  is  not  an 
argument  against  miracles,  but  against  faith  in  the  past. 
The  historian  saws  through  the  bench  on  which  he  sits. 

In  dealing  with  laws  of  evidence,  in  insisting  on  the 
sifting  of  testimony,  and  on  the  special  difficulty  of  ascer- 
taining what  is  reliable  in  the  records  concerning  events  in 


DAVID  HUME 


97 


distant  ages,  Hume’s  Essay  is  at  once  able  and  of  practical 
value ; but  abstract  reasoning  to  prove  the  impossibility 
of  occurrences  we  have  never  witnessed,  or  impossibility 
of  evidence  to  prove  that  such  things  have  occurred,  is 
vain  on  the  conditions  of  experience  itself. 

But  we  must  note  the  range  of  Hume’s  reasoning. 
His  Essay  is  not  an  argument  against  the  possibility 
of  miracles.  The  thinker  who  insisted  that  certainty 
depends  on  individual  experience  could  not  have  con- 
structed such  an  argument.  He  had  supplied  the  weapon 
to  cut  all  such  arguments  in  two.  He  is  naturally 
solicitous,  therefore,  that  the  rigid  limits  of  his  ‘free 
reasoning  ’ should  be  observed.  ‘ I beg  the  limitations 
here  made  may  be  remarked  when  I say,  that  a miracle 
can  never  be  proved  so  as  to  be  the  foundation  of  a 
system  of  religion.  For  I own  that,  otherwise,  there  may 
possibly  be  miracles.’  Hume  never  committed  himself  to 
the  proposition  that  no  miracle  has  happened  ; still  less  to 
the  proposition  that  such  an  event  could  not  occur.  The 
possibility  of  an  event  depends  on  power  and  will,  not  on 
testimony,  which  can  be  only  subsequent  to  the  event. 

What  then  of  Hume’s  denial  of  the  possibility  of  evi- 
dence to  warrant  belief  in  a miracle  ? Granting  ‘ uniform 
experience  ’ as  to  fixed  laws  in  nature,  what  bearing  has 
this  on  evidence  for  miracles  ? By  miracles  we  certainly 
mean  events  distinct  from  the  common  occurrences 
explained  by  natural  law.  ‘ Nothing  is  esteemed  a 
miracle  if  it  ever  happen  in  the  common  course  of  nature.’ 
But  if  we  admit  that  they  are  distinct  events,  Hume’s 
definition  needs  to  be  rectified,  and  his  appeal  to  ex- 
perience as  to  ‘ the  common  course  of  nature  ’ can  be  of 

G 


98 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


no  avail.  What  is  meant  by  a miracle  is  not  ‘ a violation 
of  the  laws  of  nature,’  nor  is  it  * a transgression  of  a law  of 
nature  by  a particular  volition  of  the  Deity,’  but  ‘a 
particular  volition  of  the  Deity,’  for  other  ends  than  those 
secured  ‘ in  the  common  course  of  nature,’  such  as  moral 
ends,  which  are  not  secured  by  fixed  laws  of  nature,  but 
depend  on  man’s  reason  and  volition,  as  these  may  be 
influenced  by  Revelation.  But  when  ‘ violation  of  the 
laws  of  nature  ’ is  withdrawn  from  the  definition,  the  point 
of  the  argument  is  lost,  and  a basis  is  found  for  Hume’s 
admission  that  ‘ there  may  possibly  be  miracles.’  ‘ A 
particular  volition  of  the  Deity  ’ for  a moral  end  implies 
the  action  of  supernatural  power. 

As  to  the  evidence  for  such  intervention  in-human 
history,  our  uniform  experience  of  the  common  course 
of  nature  can  supply  nothing  of  testimony  and  no  ground 
for  criticism.  To  represent  human  experience  as  wit- 
nessing to  ‘ the  common  course  of  nature  ’ is  sound 
science  and  is  good  philosophy,  but  to  say  that  human 
experience  has  borne  witness  to  nothing  more  is  to  beg 
the  question  in  dispute,  and  to  suggest  that  moral  govern- 
ment has  no  place  in  the  history  of  the  universe.  Granting 
that  ‘ firm  and  unalterable  experience  has  established 
these  laws,’  such  experience  can  bear  no  testimony  as  to 
possibilities  or  impossibilities  beyond. 

Hume’s  attempt  here  to  lift  religion  out  of  the  sphere 
of  reason  proved  a failure.  It  was,  indeed,  at  variance 
with  his  deeper  instinct.  The  whole  discussion  as  to 
proof  and  probability,  keenly  sustained  on  both  sides, 
witnesses  to  the  impossibility  of  religion  being  limited  to 
faith.  Hume’s  purpose,  honest  and  earnest,  to  put  ‘ an 


DAVID  HUME 


99 


everlasting  check  to  all  kinds  of  superstitious  delusion,’ 
was  one  which  could  not  have  been  served  even  by 
making  good  the  position  that  the  unbroken  testimony 
of  common  experience  makes  evidence  for  a miracle 
impossible.  To  separate  faith  from  understanding  is  to 
open  wide  the  door  to  superstition.  It  may  be  described 
in  his  own  language  as  a vain  endeavour  after  * subduing 
the  rebellious  reason  by  the  belief  of  the  most  unin- 
telligible sophisms  ’ (. Natural  History  of  Religion,  sec. 
x.).  But  his  contention  is  interpreted  aright  only 
as  we  acknowledge  his  avowal  that  * there  may 
possibly  be  miracles,’  while  he  at  the  same  time 
holds  that  these  cannot  afford  testimony  for  ‘ a system 
of  religion.’  The  spirit  of  his  argument  is  shewn  in 
his  own  estimate  of  its  worth.  ‘ I am  the  better  pleased 
with  the  method  of  reasoning  here  delivered,  as  I think  it 
may  serve  to  confound  those  dangerous  friends,  or  dis- 
guised enemies  to  the  Christian  religion,  who  have 
undertaken  to  defend  it  by  the  principles  of  human 
reason.  Our  most  holy  religion  is  founded  on  Faith, 
not  on  Reason  of  miracles.’  This  Essay  shews  insight 
as  to  the  uniformity  of  nature  in  considerable  advance 
of  his  time,  but  it  shews  for  him  a singular  failure  in  the 
exercise  of  his  critical  power.  In  passing  to  the  Natural 
History  of  Religion,  which  first  appeared  in  1777,  it 
becomes  apparent  how  much  Hume  occupied  himself 
with  the  problems  of  religion.  Here  also  we  have  fuller 
indication  of  his  personal  faith,  and  at  so  many  points  as 
to  remove  all  uncertainty  as  to  his  attitude.  ‘The  whole 
frame  of  nature  bespeaks  an  Intelligent  Author,  and  no 
rational  enquirer  can,  after  serious  reflection,  suspend  his 


IOO 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


belief  a moment  with  regard  to  the  primary  principles  of 
a genuine  Theism  and  Religion’  {Intro.). 

This  avowal  at  the  outset,  recognising  that  religion  has 
‘its  foundation  in  reason,’  is  the  more  important  as  his 
Treatise  is  occupied  mainly  with  the  inconsistencies, 
superstitions,  and  immoralities  appearing  under  the  name 
of  religion.  Here  also  Hume  is  the  critic,  exercising 
‘ freedom  of  reasoning  ’ in  handling  the  beliefs  and  sacred 
rites  of  ‘ popular  religions,’  ‘ for  the  most  part  poly- 
theistic.’ He  is  content  to  go  back  to  the  Christian  era, 
where  he  finds  the  whole  world  given  to  idolatry.  Looking 
around  on  the  varied  aspects  of  popular  religion,  he 
proceeds  to  consider  how  religious  principles  may  be 
easily  perverted  by  various  accidents  and  causes.  His 
purpose  in  this  work  is  to  consider  ‘ what  those  principles 
are  which  give  rise  to  the  original  belief,  and  what  those 
accidents  and  causes  are  which  direct  its  operation.’ 

‘ The  only  point  of  theology  in  which  we  shall  find  a 
consent  of  mankind  almost  universal  is  that  there  is  in- 
visible intelligent  power  in  the  world  ’ (sec.  iv.).  ‘ Never- 
theless, the  doctrine  of  one  Supreme  Deity,  the  author  of 
nature,  is  very  ancient,  has  spread  itself  over  great  and 
populous  nations,  and  among  them  has  been  embraced 
by  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  men  ’ (sec.  vi.).  We 
therefore  admit  that  there  are  ‘ invincible  reasons  on 
which  it  is  undoubtedly  founded.’  1 But  it  is  chiefly  our 
present  business  to  consider  the  gross  polytheism  of  the 
vulgar,  and  to  trace  all  its  various  appearances,  in  the 
principles  of  human  nature,  whence  they  are  derived  ’ 
(sec.  v.).  In  carrying  through  this  enquiry  he  has  much 
to  say  as  to  the  superstition  and  the  fanaticism  which  have 


DAVID  HUME 


IOI 


appeared  in  the  natural  history  of  religion,  and  here  he 
often  indulges  in  the  free  criticism  which  appeared  in  the 
History  of  England,  and  called  forth  the  adverse  criticism 
of  the  friends  of  evangelical  religion.  But  the  Treatise  is 
a vigorous  treatment  of  the  subject,  shewing  extended 
research,  specially  directed  upon  classical  authors,  dis- 
covering prominent  features  in  the  mythology  of  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  while  including  frequent 
references  to  the  religious  rites  prevailing  among  uncivil- 
ised tribes  in  all  ages.  In  all  this  he  deals  carefully  with 
a vast  mass  of  evidence  essential  to  the  discussion.  We 
cannot  attempt  even  a summary  of  the  extended  investi- 
gation. It  includes  much  that  is  of  the  utmost  value  as 
to  the  history  of  the  unfolding  of  religious  ideas  and  the 
institution  and  continuance  of  religious  rites.  With  all 
this  outcome  of  research  under  review,  he  remarks  that 
‘ there  is  not  wanting  a sufficient  stock  of  religious  zeal 
and  faith  among  mankind.’  ‘ Look  out  for  a people 
entirely  destitute  of  religion : if  you  find  them  at  all,  be 
assured  that  they  are  but  few  degrees  removed  from  brutes.’ 
But  corruptions  naturally  appear  in  the  fancies,  traditions, 
and  religious  observances  of  men.  ‘ Men  have  a natural 
tendency  to  rise  from  idolatry  to  theism,  and  to  sink  again 
from  theism  into  idolatry.’  ‘ The  corruptions  of  the  best 
things  give  rise  to  the  worst.’  On  the  other  hand,  theism 
is  sustained  by  the  reflection  of  the  most  thoughtful. 

‘ Where  theism  forms  the  fundamental  principle  of  any 
popular  religion,  that  tenet  is  so  conformable  to  sound 
reason  that  philosophy  is  apt  to  incorporate  itself  with 
such  a system  of  theology  ’(sec.  xi.).  Our  speculative 
thought  as  to  the  first  cause — the  supreme  intelligence 


102 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


— is  of  the  first  moment  to  the  individual  thinker  and 
to  our  race  as  a whole.  ‘ What  a noble  privilege  it  is  of 
human  reason  to  attain  the  Knowledge  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  and  from  the  visible  works  of  nature  be  enabled  to 
infer  so  sublime  a principle  as  its  supreme  Creator  ’ (sec. 
xv.).  But  when  we  ‘ examine  the  religious  principles 
which  have,  in  fact,  prevailed,’  many  of  them  are  to  be 
discredited  as  ‘ sick  men’s  dreams,’  rather  than  respected 
as  ‘ the  serious,  positive,  dogmatical  asseverations  of  a 
being  who  dignifies  himself  with  the  name  of  rational  ’ 
(/A).  When  we  look  at  the  vast  problem  as  it  stands 
before  us  in  history,  ‘ the  whole  is  a riddle,  an  enigma, 
an  inexplicable  mystery  ’ (lb).  But  faith  remains  unmoved. 
‘ The  universal  propensity  to  believe  in  invisible  intelligent 
power,  if  not  an  original  instinct,  being  at  least  a general 
attendant  of  human  nature,  may  be  considered  as  a kind 
of  mark  or  stamp  which  the  divine  workman  has  set  upon 
his  work  ; and  nothing  surely  can  more  dignify  mankind 
than  to  be  selected  from  all  parts  of  creation,  and  to  bear 
the  image  or  impression  of  the  universal  Creator  ’ (3.). 

These  extracts  shew  how  clearly  Hume  maintained  his 
conviction  of  the  inherent  value  of  religion,  even  when 
tracing  the  inconsistencies  which  appear  in  its  history 
among  the  several  nations  and  tribes  of  men.  His  mental 
characteristics,  intellectual  and  emotional,  induced  him 
to  treat  scornfully  of  these  inconsistencies,  as  if  they  were 
traces  of  hypocrisy.  This  tendency  appeared  so  offensively 
in  the  first  volume  of  his  History  of  England  as  to  subject 
him  to  severe  criticism.  He  owned  its  force,  and  modified 
several  passages.  Burton  gives  besides  a paper  designed 
for  a preface  to  his  second  volume,  which  was  afterwards 


DAVID  HUME 


103 


modified  and  transferred  to  the  position  of  a note.  The 
opening  sentences  of  this  Preface  are  of  special  interest 
here.  ‘ It  ought  to  be  no  matter  of  offence  that  in  this 
volume,  as  well  as  in  the  foregoing,  the  mischiefs  which 
arise  from  the  abuses  of  religion  are  so  often  mentioned, 
while  so  little  in  comparison  is  said  of  the  salutary 
consequences  which  result  from  true  and  genuine  piety. 
The  proper  office  of  religion  is  to  reform  men’s  lives,  to 
purify  their  hearts,  to  enforce  all  moral  duties,  and  to 
secure  obedience  to  the  laws  and  civil  magistrate.  While 
it  pursues  these  useful  purposes  its  operations,  though 
infinitely  valuable,  are  secret  and  silent,  and  seldom  come 
under  the  cognisance  of  history  ' (Burton,  II.,  11). 

From  the  Natural  History  of  Religion  Hume  passed 
on  to  the  study  of  the  rational  basis  of  Natural  Theology, 
which  he  prosecuted  in  the  critical  spirit  characteristic  of 
him.  For  the  long  period  of  twenty-five  years  the  subject 
was  kept  before  him.  When  the  results  appeared  after 
his  death  the  publication  was  a small  volume  of  1 5 2 pages. 
It  is  a work  of  great  value,  presenting  a searching  scrutiny 
of  the  conditions  under  which  we  seek  to  think  out  the 
relations  of  the  universe  to  the  invisible  intelligence,  the 
first  cause.  The  volume  bears  evidence  of  care  in  thought 
and  expression,  and  anxious  revision.  It  assigns  to  critical 
and  sceptical  thought  its  utmost  scope,  and  alongside  of 
this  presents  ‘ the  invincible  reasons  ’ on  which  natural 
theology  is  founded.  To  the  reader  who  dips  into  it, 
turning  its  pages  with  a light  hand,  it  will  seem  in  its 
main  contents  a sceptical  book ; to  the  critical  student 
it  will  appear  a book  of  great  constructive  worth,  while  it 
hides  nothing  of  the  difficulties  of  our  speculative  thought. 


io4 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


The  history  of  the  manuscript  volume  is  of  exceptional 
interest.  It  is  clear  from  a letter  to  Elliot,  written  from 
Ninewells,  dated  March  io,  1751,  that  the  first  draft  was 
written  then,  and  was  submitted  for  Elliot’s  criticism. 
Hume’s  death  occurred  in  1776,  and  the  Dialogues  were 
not  published  till  fully  two  years  after  that  event.  The 
manuscript  in  possession  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edin- 
burgh shews  many  emendations  and  corrections,  making 
it  certain  that  the  author  worked  over  those  pages  with 
anxious  solicitude,  and  that  in  its  published  form  we  have 
the  statement  of  his  matured  thought,  as  well  as  the  results 
of  his  best  literary  effort.  From  his  literary  friends  he 
sought  suggestions  in  the  freest  spirit ; and  we  know  that 
Elliot,  Adam  Smith,  Blair,  and  others  were  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  contents.  So  early  as  the  date  named, 
Elliot  had  * a sample  ’ of  the  Dialogue , in  which  Philo  is 
the  Sceptic,  Cleanthes  the  Philosophic  believer,  Demea 
the  rigidly  orthodox  or  quiescent  believer,  who  distrusts 
speculation.  To  Elliot  he  says, — ‘ I make  Cleanthes  the 
hero  of  the  dialogue ; whatever  you  can  think  of,  to 
strengthen  that  side  of  the  argument,  will  be  most  accept- 
able to  me.  Any  propensity  you  imagine  I have  to  the 
other  side  crept  in  upon  me  against  my  will  ’ (Burton,  I., 
331).  At  the  same  time  he  tells  how,  before  he  was 
twenty,  ‘ doubts  stole  in  upon  him,’  involving  him  in  ‘ a 
perpetual  struggle  of  a restless  imagination  against  inclina- 
tion, perhaps  against  reason.’  The  Dialogues  present 
his  effort  to  clear  the  way  through  inevitable  doubts. 
His  own  estimate  of  the  result  he  indicates  in  this 
letter  to  Elliot, — ‘The  instances  I have  chosen  for 
Cleanthes  are,  I hope,  tolerably  happy,  and  the  con- 


DAVID  HUME 


i°5 

fusion  in  which  I represent  the  sceptic  seems  natural’ 
(I-»  333)- 

As  the  close  of  life  approached,  Hume  felt  great  solici- 
tude about  the  publication  of  these  Dialogues.  This  feel- 
ing was  increased  by  the  desire  expressed  by  some  of  his 
most  intimate  literary  friends  that  he  should  withhold  the 
book.  He  was  willing  that  it  should  not  be  published  till 
after  his  death,  but  he  took  pains  to  secure  that  it  should 
appear  * within  two  years  ’ thereafter.  The  delay  indicated 
his  aversion  to  encounter  the  storm  likely  to  be  raised  by 
their  appearance;  his  fixed  determination  that  it  should 
appear  within  a defined  period  testifies  to  his  conviction 
that  an  important  service  was  to  be  rendered  to  the  cause 
of  religion  by  unreserved  critical  handling  of  the  difficulties 
which  beset  our  attempts  to  apply  the  Theistic  conception 
in  the  midst  of  finite  relations. 

On  the  4th  of  January  1776,  he  executed  a settlement 
of  his  estate,  leaving  his  money  to  his  brother,  sister,  and 
younger  relatives,  £200  to  D’Alembert;  the  same  to  Adam 
Ferguson,  and  the  same  to  Adam  Smith,  under  special 
proviso.  ‘ To  my  friend  Dr  Adam  Smith,  late  Professor 
of  Moral  Philosophy  in  Glasgow,  I leave  all  my  manu- 
scripts without  exception,  desiring  him  to  publish  my 
Dialogues  on  Natural  Religion  which  are  comprehended 
in  this  present  bequest.  ...  I even  leave  him  full  power 
over  all  my  papers,  except  the  Dialogues  above  men- 
tioned ; and  though  I can  trust  to  that  intimate  and 
sincere  friendship  which  has  ever  subsisted  between  us 
for  his  faithful  execution  of  this  part  of  my  Will,  yet, 
as  a small  recompense  of  his  pain  in  correcting  and 
publishing  this  work,  I leave  him  two  hundred  pounds, 


io6 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


to  be  paid  immediately  after  the  publication  of  it  ’ (Burton, 
II.,  490). 

Hume  explained  to  Adam  Smith  his  desire  that  he 
should  superintend  the  publication  of  the  Dialogues. 
Smith  declined  the  responsibility,  being  averse  to  the 
publication,  as  likely  to  increase  the  popular  clamour 
against  him.  On  this,  Hume  writes  to  his  friend  on  3rd 
May  1776,  three  months  before  his  death: — ‘My  dear 
Friend,  ...  I own  that  your  scruples  have  a specious 
appearance.  But  my  opinion  is,  that  if  upon  my  death 
you  determine  never  to  publish  these  papers,  you  should 
leave  them,  sealed  up,  with  my  brother  and  family,  with 
some  inscription  that  you  reserve  to  yourself  the  power  of 
reclaiming  them  whenever  you  think  proper.  If  I live  a 
few  years  longer,  I shall  publish  them  myself’  (Burton, 
II.,  492).  In  an  accompanying  letter  Hume  adds — ‘ I 
am  content  to  leave  it  entirely  to  your  discretion  at  what 
time  you  will  publish  that  piece,  or  whether  you  will 
publish  it  at  all.’ 

Afterwards  he  added  a codicil,  retracting  the  previous 
provision,  and  substituting  the  following: — ‘I  leave  my 
manuscripts  to  the  care  of  Mr  William  Strahan  of  London, 
Member  of  Parliament,  trusting  to  the  friendship  that 
has  long  subsisted  between  us  for  his  careful  and  faithful 
execution  of  my  intentions.  I desire  that  my  Dialogues 
Concerning  Natural  Religion  may  be  printed  and  pub- 
lished any  time  within  two  years  after  my  death.’ 

Still  later,  it  is  added — ‘ I do  ordain  that  if  my  Dia- 
logues., from  whatever  cause,  be  not  published  within  two 
years  and  a half  of  my  death,  as  also  the  account  of  my 
life,  the  property  shall  return  to  my  nephew,  David,  whose 


DAVID  HUME 


107 


duty  in  publishing  them,  as  the  last  request  of  his  uncle, 
must  be  approved  of  by  all  the  world  ’ (Burton,  II.,  494). 

Strahan  also  declined  the  responsibility,  and  the  Dia- 
logues were  eventually  published  by  the  author’s  nephew, 
David,  in  1779,  and  without  name  of  publisher  or  printer. 
Fortunately  for  the  literature  of  our  country,  the  author 
persisted  in  his  determination.  Now  that  the  prejudices 
against  him  have  in  considerable  measure  passed  away,  we 
can  admit  that  his  perplexities  may  be  helpful  to  us  who 
follow.  Faith  succeeds  doubt,  while  preparing  the  way  for 
better  thought.  A true  service  is  rendered  in  the  history 
of  intellectual  and  religious  development  when  the  com- 
mon difficulties  of  our  position  in  the  universe  are  stated 
with  clearness  and  force.  Pioneers,  after  enduring  untold 
hardships,  may  have  the  gratitude  of  the  people.  On  the 
voyage  of  life  there  is  gain  in  sounding  all  depths. 

In  the  title  of  his  work  Hume  uses  the  term  ‘ Religion  ’ 
rather  than  ‘ Theology.’  This  usage  applies  the  same 
term  to  the  practical  experience  and  the  speculative  exer- 
cise. Some  confusion  is  apt  to  arise  in  this  way,  for  it  is 
admitted  that  religion,  as  a characteristic  of  human  life, 
may  flourish  apart  from  direct  and  intimate  concern  with 
the  perplexities  of  thought,  from  which  theology  cannot 
escape. 

Hume’s  reasons  for  adopting  the  form  of  dialogue  have 
obvious  force  in  view  of  the  nature  of  the  subject  and  the 
end  he  sought.  His  purpose  was  to  present  in  their  utmost 
strength  the  difficulties  encountered  in  thinking  of  the 
relations  of  God  to  the  universe,  and  to  shew  religious  faith 
at  its  best  in  the  sphere  of  intelligence.  The  certainty  of 
the  Divine  existence  being  admitted,  the  object  is  to  dis- 


io8 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


cuss  ‘ what  obscure  questions  occur  concerning  the  nature 
of  that  Divine  being,  his  attributes,  his  decrees,  and  his 
plan  of  providence  ’ (p.  3). 

For  understanding  of  the  discussion  it  is  needful  to  keep 
in  view  the  attitude  and  special  bias  of  the  speakers. 
Philo  is  the  pronounced  sceptic  who  dwells  on  the  weak- 
ness and  blindness  of  our  intelligence,  and  delights  in 
doubts  as  if  they  constituted  the  current  coin  of  the  realm. 
Cleanthes  is  the  philosophic  thinker,  ready  to  examine 
every  doubt  presented,  and  relying  on  regulated  methodi- 
cal thought  for  attainment  of  a vision  of  truth  in  harmony 
with  our  fundamental  faith  in  the  Divine  existence  and 
government.  Demea  is  the  quiet  believer  in  God  and  his 
goodness,  content  to  trust,  willing  to  treat  obscure  ques- 
tions of  speculative  thought  as  things  too  high  for  us 
belonging  to  an  unknown  territory  into  which  the  ordinary 
believer  does  not  travel.  Philo  and  Demea  are  at  the 
opposite  extremes,  but  occasionally  in  close  agreement, 
because  of  their  readiness  to  think  lightly  of  human 
intelligence.  Cleanthes  is  the  philosophic  thinker,  de- 
liberate, patient,  and  strong,  ‘ the  hero  of  the  Dialogue.’ 
‘ The  remarkable  contrast  in  their  characters  ’ gives  interest 
to  the  discussion,  and  makes  it  possible  for  the  author  to 
give  a breadth  of  representation  of  the  varied  tendencies 
and  habits  of  thought  subsisting  in  society. 

Part  I 

Demea.  Natural  theology  being  the  most  abstruse  of  all 
sciences,  needs  a mind  enriched  with  all  the  other  sciences, 
and  may  be  postponed  while  the  opening  intelligence  is 
‘ seasoned  with  early  piety.’ 


DAVID  HUME 


109 


Philo.  To  season  the  mind  thus  is  reasonable  as  a 
defence  against  an  irreligious  spirit,  but  the  danger  is  that 
of  ‘ inspiring  pride  and  self  sufficiency  ’ to  guard  against 
which  evils  we  must  ‘ become  thoroughly  sensible  of  the 
weakness,  blindness,  and  narrow  limits  of  human  reason.’ 
Having  such  poor  intelligence,  ‘ with  what  assurance  can 
we  decide  concerning  the  origin  of  worlds,  or  trace  their 
history  from  eternity  to  eternity  ? ’ 

Cleanthes.  ‘ You  propose  then  to  erect  religious  faith  or 
philosophical  scepticism.’  But  this  is  a foundation  weaker 
than  reason,  and  which  the  common  intelligence,  weak  as 
it  is,  readily  rejects,  because  of  its  obvious  inconsistency ; 
for  ‘ though  a man,  in  a flush  of  humour,  may  entirely 
renounce  all  belief  and  opinion,  it  is  impossible  for  him  to 
persevere  in  it,  or  make  it  appear  in  his  conduct  for  a fewT 
hours.’ 

Ph.  ‘ However  sceptical  anyone  may  be,  I own  he 
must  act  and  live,  and  converse  like  other  men ; and  for 
this  conduct  he  is  not  obliged  to  give  any  other  reason 
than  the  absolute  necessity  he  lies  under  of  so  doing.’  But 
there  is  a fascination  in  speculative  thought ; ‘ everyone, 
even  in  common  life,  is  constrained  to  have  more  or  less 
of  this  philosophy,’  ‘ and  what  we  call  philosophy  is 
nothing  but  a more  regular  and  methodical  operation  of 
the  same  kind.’  But  ‘when  we  look  beyond  human 
affairs,’  and  carry  our  speculations  forward  to  consider  ‘ the 
powers  of  operations  of  one  universal  Spirit,’  ‘ we  have 
here  got  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties,’  ‘and  are  entirely 
guided  by  a kind  of  instinct  or  necessity  in  employing  them.’ 

Cl.  But  ‘your  doctrine  and  practice  are  as  much  at 
variance  in  the  most  abstruse  points  of  theory  as  in  the 


no 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


conduct  of  common  life.’  ‘There  is,  indeed,  a kind  of 
brutish  and  ignorant  scepticism  ’ which  ‘ is  fatal  to  know- 
ledge, not  to  religion.’  ‘ But  the  refined  and  philosophic 
sceptics  fall  into  an  inconsistence  of  an  opposite  nature. 
They  push  their  researches  into  the  most  abstruse  corners 
of  science,  and  their  assent  attends  them  in  every  step, 
proportioned  to  the  evidence  with  which  they  meet.’ 

Ph.  Taking  together  ‘the  history  of  the  religious  and 
the  irreligious  scepticism,’  ‘ it  appears  to  me  that  there  are 
strong  symptoms  of  priestcraft  in  the  progress  of  this  affair.’ 
These  reverend  gentlemen  are  ‘ sceptics  in  one  age,  dog- 
matists in  another,’  as  ‘ best  suits  their  purpose.’ 

Cl.  ‘ We  need  not  have  recourse  to  priestcraft  ’ to 
account  for  the  history  of  events.  ‘Nothing  can  afford  a 
stronger  presumption  that  any  set  of  principles  are  true, 
than  to  observe  that  they  tend  to  the  confirmation  of  true 
religion,  and  serve  to  confound  the  free-thinkers.’ 

Such  in  outline  is  the  opening  Dialogue.  Interest  con- 
centrates on  the  antagonistic  reasoning  of  the  Sceptic  and 
the  Philosopher.  To  their  several  parts  we  shall  restrict 
this  summary. 

Part  II. — Does  limited  knowledge  involve  uncertainty 
in  Analogies  ? 

Ph.  ‘Where  reasonable  men  treat  these  subjects,  the 
question  can  never  be  concerning  the  being , but  only  the 
nature  of  the  Deity.’  The  former  truth  is  unquestionable 
and  self  evident.  ‘ But  our  ideas  reach  no  further  than 
our  experience ; and  we  have  no  experience  of  Divine 
attributes  and  operations.’ 

Cl.  ‘The  curious  adapting  of  means  to  ends  through- 


DAVID  HUME 


hi 


out  all  nature  resembles  exactly,  though  it  much  exceeds, 
the  productions  of  human  contrivance,  of  human  design, 
thought,  wisdom,  and  intelligence.’ 

Ph.  1 Wherever  you  depart  in  the  least  from  the  simi- 
larity of  the  cases,  you  diminish  proportionably  the  evi- 
dence ; and  may  at  last  bring  it  to  a very  weak  analogy, 
which  is  confessedly  liable  to  error  and  uncertainty.’ 

Cl.  ‘Is  the  whole  adjustment  of  means  to  ends  in  a 
house  and  in  the  universe  so  slight  a resemblance  ? The 
economy  of  final  causes  ? The  order,  proportion,  and 
arrangement  of  every  part  ? ’ 

Ph.  ‘ I must  allow  that  this  fairly  represents  the  argu- 
ment ’ from  observation  and  experience.  But  ‘ experience 
alone  can  point  out  the  true  cause  of  any  phenomenon.’ 
‘ Order,  arrangement,  or  the  adjustment  of  final  causes  is 
no  proof  of  design,  except  in  so  far  as  it  has  been  ex- 
perienced to  proceed  from  that  principle.’  But  I am 
‘scandalised  with  this  resemblance  which  is  asserted  between 
the  Deity  and  human  creatures,  which  I conceive  implies 
a degradation  of  the  Supreme  Being.’  I prefer  to  agree 
with  the  orthodox  in  defending  what  is  justly  called  ‘ the 
adorable  mysteriousness  of  the  Divine  Nature.’  ‘ Thought, 
design,  intelligence,  such  as  we  discover  in  men  and 
other  animals  is  no  more  than  one  of  the  springs  and 
principles  of  the  universe,  as  well  as  heat  or  cold,  attrac- 
tion or  repulsion.’  ‘ Why  select  sc  minute,  so  weak,  so 
bounded  a principle  as  the  reason  and  design  of  animals  ? 
What  peculiar  privilege  has  this  little  agitation  of  the  brain 
which  we  call  thought,  that  we  must  thus  make  it  the 
model  of  the  whole  universe.’ 

Cl.  Let  me  suggest  that  you  do  not  ‘ abuse  terms.’ 


1 1 2 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


We  ‘ distinguish  reason  from  experience,  even  where  the 
question  relates  only  to  matter  of  fact  and  existence.’  ‘ To 
prove  by  experience  the  origin  of  the  universe  from  mind 
is  not  more  contrary  to  common  speech  than  to  prove  the 
motion  of  the  earth  from  the  same  principle.’ 

Ph.  In  the  ‘cautious  procedure’  of  observational  science 
is  to  be  found  the  condemnation  of  rash  speculation 
in  Natural  Theology.  ‘ The  subject  in  which  you  are 
engaged  exceeds  all  human  reason  and  enquiry.’  ‘ Have 
you  ever  seen  Nature  in  any  such  situation  as  resembles 
the  first  arrangement  of  the  elements  ? ’ 

Part  III. — Conditions  of  reasoning  from  Experience 
to  that  which  transcends  it. 

Cl.  ‘ It  is  by  no  means  necessary  that  Theists  should 
prove  the  similarity  of  the  works  of  Nature  to  those  of 
art,  because  this  similarity  is  self-evident  and  undeniable.’ 
‘Suppose  that  there  is  a natural,  universal,  invariable 
language,  common  to  every  individual  of  human  race, 
and  that  books  are  natural  productions,  which  perpetuate 
themselves  in  the  same  manner  with  animals  and  vegetables. 
Suppose  that  you  enter  into  your  library,  thus  peopled  by 
natural  volumes,  containing  the  most  refined  reason  and 
most  exquisite  beauty,  could  you  possibly  open  one  of 
them  and  doubt  that  its  original  cause  bore  the  strongest 
analogy  to  mind  and  intelligence  ? ’ ‘ Any  objection 

which  you  start  by  carrying  me  back  to  so  unusual  and 
extraordinary  a scene  as  the  first  formation  of  worlds,  the 
same  objection  has  place  on  the  supposition  of  our  vege- 
tating library.’  ‘To  exclude  all  argument  or  reasoning  of 
every  kind  is  either  affectation  or  madness.’ 


DAVID  HUME 


JI3 


Ph.  ‘Your  instance  drawn  from  books  and  language, 
being  familiar,  has,  I confess,  so  much  more  force  on  that 
account  ; but  is  there  not  some  danger  too  in  this  very 
circumstance  ? ’ ‘ When  I read  a volume,  I enter  into  the 
mind  and  intention  of  the  author;  I become  him,  in  a 
manner,  for  the  instant.  . . . But  so  near  an  approach  we 
never  surely  can  make  to  the  Deity.  His  ways  are  not 
our  ways.  His  attributes  are  perfect,  but  incomprehen- 
sible. And  this  volume  of  Nature  contains  a great  and 
inexplicable  riddle,  more  than  any  intelligible  discourse  or 
reasoning.’  ‘ Our  thought  is  fluctuating,  uncertain,  fleeting, 
successive,  and  compounded ; and  were  we  to  remove  these 
circumstances,  we  absolutely  annihilate  its  essence,  and  it 
would,  in  such  a case,  be  an  abuse  of  terms  to  apply  to  it 
the  name  of  thought  or  reason.  At  least,  if  it  appear  more 
pious  and  respectful  (as  it  really  is)  still  to  retain  these 
terms  when  we  mention  the  Supreme  Being,  we  ought  to 
acknowledge  that  their  meaning  in  that  case  is  totally  in- 
comprehensible ; and  that  the  infirmities  of  our  nature  do 
not  permit  us  to  reach  any  ideas  which  in  the  least  corre- 
spond to  the  ineffable  sublimity  of  the  Divine  attributes.’ 

Part  IV. — Can  phases  of  the  human  mind  be  attributed 
to  the  Divine  Intelligence? 

Cl.  ‘The  Deity,  I can  readily  allow,  possesses  many 
powers  and  attributes,  of  which  we  can  have  no  com- 
prehension. But  if  our  ideas,  so  far  as  they  go,  be  not 
just  and  adequate,  I know  not  what  there  is  in  this  subject 
worth  insisting  on.”  . . . ‘ Though  it  be  allowed  that  the 
Deity  possesses  attributes  of  which  we  have  no  compre- 
hension, yet  ought  we  never  to  ascribe  to  Him  any 

H 


H4 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


attributes  which  are  absolutely  incompatible  with  that 
intelligent  nature  essential  to  Him.’ 

Ph.  * I shall  endeavour  to  shew  you  the  inconveniences 
of  that  Anthropomorphism  (Theology  founded  on  human 
characteristics)  which  you  have  embraced ; and  shall  prove 
that  there  is  no  ground  to  suppose  a plan  of  the  world  to 
be  formed  in  the  Divine  mind,  consisting  of  distinct  ideas 
differently  arranged,  in  the  same  manner  as  an  architect 
forms  in  his  head  the  plan  of  a house  which  he  intends  to 
execute.’  Suppose  we  judge  of  the  matter  by  Reason : — 
‘ a mental  world,  or  universe  of  ideas,  requires  a cause  as 
much  as  does  a material  world,  or  universe  of  objects  ; and 
if  similar  in  its  arrangement,  must  require  a similar  cause.’ 
We  are  still  obliged  to  mount  higher  in  order  to  find  the 
cause  of  this  cause,  if  we  take  the  world  of  ideas  to  be  the 
cause  of  the  world  of  objects.  Suppose  we  judge  of  the 
matter  by  Experience ; — ‘ How  shall  we  satisfy  ourselves 
concerning  the  cause  of  the  ideal  world  into  which  you 
trace  the  material  ? ’ ‘ When  you  go  one  step  beyond  the 

mundane  system,  you  only  excite  an  inquisitive  humour, 
which  it  is  impossible  ever  to  satisfy.’  ‘To  say  that  the 
different  ideas,  which  compose  the  reason  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  fall  into  order  of  themselves,  and  by  their  own  nature, 
is  really  to  talk  without  any  precise  meaning.’  ‘No  satis- 
faction can  ever  be  attained  by  these  speculations,  which 
so  far  exceed  the  narrow  bounds  of  human  understanding.’ 

Cl.  ‘ The  order  and  arrangement  of  Nature,  the  curious 
adjustment  of  final  causes,  the  plain  use  and  intention  ot 
every  part  and  organ ; all  these  bespeak  in  the  clearest 
language  an  intellectual  cause  or  author.’  ‘ I have  found 


DAVID  HUME 


1 1 5 

a Deity,  and  here  I stop  my  enquiry.  Let  those  go  further 
who  are  wiser  or  more  enterprising.’ 

Ph.  ‘ 1 pretend  to  be  neither,  and  for  that  very  reason 
I should  never  perhaps  have  attempted  to  go  so  far, 
especially  when  I am  sensible  that  I must  at  last  be 
contented  to  sit  down  with  the  same  answer.’ 

Part  V. — ‘ Like  effects  prove  like  causes.’ — How  far  is 
the  maxim  applicable  ? 

Ph.  ‘Please  to  take  a new  survey  of  your  principles. 
Like  effects  prove  like  causes.  This  is  the  experimental 
argument ; and  this,  you  say  too,  is  the  sole  theological 
argument.  Now  it  is  certain  that  the  liker  the  effects 
are  which  are  seen,  and  the  liker  the  causes  which 
are  inferred,  the  stronger  is  the  argument.  Every 
departure  on  either  side  diminishes  the  probability, 
and  renders  the  experiment  less  conclusive.’  Now, 
‘by  this  method  of  reasoning  you  renounce  all  claim 
to  infinity  in  any  of  the  attributes  of  the  Deity,’  and 
there  is  left  no  reason  ‘for  ascribing  perfection  to  the 
Deity.’  On  your  hypothesis  ‘a  man  is  able,  perhaps,  to 
assert  or  conjecture  that  the  Universe,  sometime,  arose 
from  something  like  design;  but  beyond  that  position 
he  cannot  ascertain  one  single  circumstance.’ 

Cl.  ‘ These  suppositions  I absolutely  disown : they 
strike  me,  however,  with  no  horror.  On  the  contrary 
they  give  me  pleasure,  when  I see  that,  by  the  utmost 
indulgence  of  your  imagination,  you  never  get  rid  of  the 
hypothesis  of  design  in  the  Universe,  but  are  obliged  at 
every  turn  to  have  recourse  to  it.  To  this  concession  I 


1 1 6 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


steadily  adhere  ■ and  this  I regard  as  a sufficient  foundation 
for  religion.’ 

Part  VI. — Can  we  reason  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown  ? 

Ph.  ‘ There  is  another  principle  ’ derived  from  experi- 
ence, ‘ that  where  several  known  circumstances  are  observed 
to  be  similar,  the  unknown  will  also  be  similar.  Thus,  if 
we  see  the  limbs  of  a human  body,  we  conclude  that  it  is 
also  attended  with  a human  head,  though  hid  from  us.’ 
‘Now  if  we  survey  the  universe,  so  far  as  it  falls  under  our 
knowledge,  it  bears  a great  resemblance  to  an  animal  or 
organised  body,  and  seems  actuated  with  a like  principle 
of  life  and  motion.’  ‘ The  world,  therefore,  I infer,  is  an 
animal,’  and,  according  to  the  hypothesis  of  the  ancients, 
‘ the  Deity  is  the  soul  of  the  world  actuating  it,  and  actu- 
ated by  it.’  ‘ If  our  limited  analogy  could  ever  with  any 
propriety  be  extended  to  the  whole  of  Nature,  the  infer- 
ence seems  juster  in  favour  of  the  ancient  than  the 
modern  theory.’ 

Cl.  ‘ This  theory,  I own,  has  never  before  occurred  to 
me,  though  a pretty  natural  one,  and  I cannot  readily 
upon  so  short  an  examination  and  reflection  deliver  any 
opinion  with  regard  to  it.  It  seems  to  me  the  analogy  is 
defective  in  many  circumstances  the  most  material — no 
organs  of  sense,  no  seat  of  thought  or  reason,  no  one 
precise  origin  of  motion  and  action.’  Besides,  ‘ human 
society  is  in  continual  revolution  between  ignorance  and 
knowledge,  liberty  and  slavery,  riches  and  poverty,  so  that 
it  is  impossible  for  us,  from  our  limited  experience,  to 


DAVID  HUME 


117 


foretell  with  assurance  what  events  may  or  may  not  be 
expected.’ 

Ph.  ‘ It  is  observable  that  all  the  changes  and  cor- 
ruptions of  which  we  have  ever  had  experience  are  but 
passages  from  one  state  of  order  to  another,  nor  can 
matter  ever  rest  in  total  deformity  and  confusion.  What 
we  see  in  the  parts,  we  may  infer  in  the  whole ; at  least 
that  is  the  method  of  reasoning  on  which  you  rest  your 
whole  theory.  And  were  I obliged  to  defend  any  par- 
ticular system  of  this  nature  (which  I never  willingly 
should  do)  I esteem  none  more  plausible  than  that  which 
ascribes  an  eternal  inherent  principle  of  order  in  the  world, 
though  attended  with  great  and  continual  revolutions  and 
alterations.  This  at  once  solves  all  difficulties,  and  if  the 
solution,  by  being  so  general,  is  not  entirely  complete  and 
satisfactory,  it  is,  at  least,  a theory  that  we  must  sooner  or 
later  have  recourse  to,  whatever  system  we  embrace.’ 

Part  VII. — Shall  we  think  of  the  Universe  as  Organism 
or  as  Mechanism  ? 

Ph.  ‘ If  the  Universe  bears  a greater  likeness  to  animal 
bodies  and  to  vegetables  than  to  the  works  of  human  art, 
its  origin  ought  rather  to  be  ascribed  to  generation  or 
vegetation  than  to  reason  or  design.’  If  we  must  rely  on 
experience  alone,  this  seems  a legitimate  hypothesis,  but 
* we  have  no  data  to  establish  any  system  of  cosmogony. 
Our  experience,  so  imperfect  in  itself,  and  so  limited  both 
in  extent  and  duration,  can  afford  us  no  probable  con- 
jecture concerning  the  whole  of  things.’  And  organism 
‘bears  stronger  resemblance  to  the  world  than  does  any 
artificial  machine.’  We  may  refer  to  reason,  instinct, 


n8 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


generation,  or  vegetation,  but  ‘the  principles  themselves 
and  their  manner  of  operation  are  totally  unknown.’ 

Cl.  ‘ I must  confess,  Philo,  that  the  task  which  you 
have  undertaken  of  raising  doubts  and  objections  suits 
you  best,  and  seems  in  a manner  natural  and  unavoidable 
to  you.  So  great  is  your  fertility  of  invention  that  I am 
not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  myself  unable  on  a sudden 
to  solve  regularly  such  out-of-the-way  difficulties  as  you 
incessantly  start  upon  me,  though  I clearly  see  in  general 
their  fallacy  and  error.  And  I question  not  but  you  are 
yourself  in  the  same  case,  and  have  not  the  solution  so 
ready  as  the  objection,  while  you  must  be  sensible  that 
common  sense  and  reason  are  entirely  against  you.’ 

Part  VIII. — How  far  our  difficulties  arise  from  the 
transcendent  greatness  of  the  subject. 

Ph.  Because  * a hundred  contradictory  views  may 
preserve  a kind  of  imperfect  analogy,’  ‘ invention  has 
full  scope  to  exert  itself.’  ‘ Motion,  in  many  instances, 
from  gravity,  from  elasticity,  from  electricity,  begins  in 
matter,  without  any  known  voluntary  agent,  and  to  suppose 
always  in  these  cases  an  unknown  voluntary  agent  is  mere 
hypothesis.’ 

Cl.  But  the  hypothesis  of  vegetation  or  involuntary 
development  is  exposed  to  insuperable  objections.  ‘No 
form,  you  say,  can  subsist  unless  it  possess  those  powers 
and  organs  requisite  for  its  subsistence ; some  new  order 
or  economy  must  be  tried,  and  so  on  without  intermission, 
till  at  last  some  order  which  can  support  and  maintain 
itself  is  fallen  upon.  But  according  to  this  hypothesis, 


DAVID  HUME 


tt$ 

whence  arise  the  many  conveniences  and  advantages 
which  men  and  all  animals  possess  ? ’ 

Ph.  1 You  may  safely  infer  that  the  hypothesis  is  so  far 
incomplete  and  imperfect,  which  I shall  not  scruple  to 
allow.  But  can  we  ever  hope  to  erect  a system  of 
cosmogony  that  will  be  liable  to  no  exceptions  ? ’ It  is 
this  which  gives  to  scepticism  the  power  it  has.  ‘ In 
all  instances  which  we  have  ever  seen,  ideas  are  copied 
from  real  objects.’  ‘You  reverse  this  order,  and  give 
thought  the  precedence.’ 

Part  IX. — May  we  reason  from  finite  existence  to  a 
self-existent  Being  ? 

Demea.  ‘ Had  we  not  better  adhere  to  the  simple  and 
sublime  argument  a priori  ?’  It  is  impossible  for  any- 
thing to  produce  itself ; ‘ we  must  either  go  on  in  tracing 
an  infinite  succession,  without  any  ultimate  cause  at  all, 
or  must  at  last  have  recourse  to  some  ultimate  cause  that 
is  necessarily  existent.’ 

Cl.  ‘ There  is  an  evident  absurdity  in  pretending  to 
demonstrate  a matter  of  fact,  or  to  prove  it  by  any 
arguments  a priori.'  ‘ There  is  no  being  whose  existence 
is  demonstrable.  I propose  this  argument  as  entirely 
decisive,  and  am  willing  to  rest  the  whole  controversy 
upon  it.’  As  to  the  existence  of  the  Deity,  it  is  said  that 
‘ if  we  knew  his  whole  essence  or  nature,  we  should 
perceive  it  to  be  impossible  for  him  not  to  exist.  But  it 
is  evident  that  this  can  never  happen  while  our  faculties 
remain  the  same  as  at  present.’ 

Ph.  * The  argument  a priori  has  seldom  been  found 
very  convincing,  except  to  people  of  a metaphysical  head, 


120 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


who  have  accustomed  themselves  to  abstract  reasoning. 

. . . Other  people,  even  of  good  sense,  and  the  best 
inclined  to  religion,  feel  always  some  deficiency  in  such 
arguments,  though  they  are  not  perhaps  able  to  explain 
distinctly  where  it  lies.’ 

Part  X. — The  moral  argument. 

Demea.  ‘ It  is  my  opinion  that  each  man  feels,  in  a 
manner,  the  truth  of  religion  within  his  own  breast,  and 
from  a consciousness  of  his  imbecility  and  misery  is  led  to 
seek  protection  from  that  Being.’ 

Ph.  ‘ I am  indeed  persuaded  that  the  best  and,  indeed, 
the  only  method  of  bringing  everyone  to  a due  sense  of 
religion  is  by  just  representations  of  the  misery  and  wicked- 
ness of  men.  ...  In  this  point  the  learned  are  perfectly 
agreed  with  the  vulgar,  and  in  all  letters,  sacred  and 
profane,  the  topic  of  human  misery  has  been  insisted 
on  with  the  most  pathetic  eloquence.’  ‘ Disappointment, 
vexation,  trouble,  follow  man’s  activity  and  ambition.’ 

Cl.  ‘ I can  observe  something  like  what  you  mention  in 
some  others,  but  I confess  I feel  little  or  nothing  of  it 
myself,  and  hope  that  it  is  not  so  common  as  you  represent 
it.’ 

Ph.  ‘ Is  it  possible,  after  all  these  reflections,  you  can 
still  assert  the  moral  attributes  of  the  Deity,  his  justice, 
benevolence,  mercy  and  rectitude, — to  be  of  the  same 
nature  with  these  virtues  in  human  creatures  ? His  power, 
we  allow,  is  infinite ; whatever  he  wills  is  executed ; but 
neither  man  nor  any  other  animal  are  happy ; therefore 
he  does  not  will  their  happiness.’ 

Cl.  ‘ If  you  can  prove  mankind  to  be  unhappy  or 


DAVID  HUME 


I 2 I 


corrupted,  there  is  an  end  at  once  of  all  religion.  For  to 
what  purpose  establish  the  natural  attributes  of  the  Deity, 
while  the  moral  are  still  doubtful  and  uncertain  1 ’ 

Demea.  ‘Nothing  can  be  more  surprising  than  to 
find  a topic  like  this,  concerning  the  wickedness  and 
misery  of  man,  charged  with  no  less  than  atheism  and 
profaneness.’ 

Cl.  ‘These  arbitrary  suppositions  as  to  wickedness  and 
misery  can  never  be  admitted.’  ‘ The  only  method  of 
supporting  Divine  benevolence  (and  it  is  what  I willingly 
embrace)  is  to  deny  absolutely  the  misery  and  wickedness 
of  man.  Your  representations  are  exaggerated.  . . . 
Health  is  more  common  than  sickness.’ 

Ph.  ‘ You  have  put  the  controversy  upon  a most 
dangerous  issue,  and  are  unawares  introducing  a total 
scepticism  into  the  most  essential  articles  of  natural  and 
revealed  theology.  What ! no  method  of  fixing  a just 
foundation  for  religion,  unless  we  allow  the  happiness  of 
human  life.’  ‘ By  resting  the  whole  system  of  religion  on 
such  a point,  which  from  its  very  nature  must  for  ever 
be  uncertain,  you  tacitly  confess  that  system  is  equally 
uncertain.’ 

‘ It  is  your  turn  now  to  tug  the  labouring  oar,  and  to 
support  your  philosophical  subtleties  against  the  dictates 
of  plain  reason  and  experience.’ 

Part  XI. — The  problem  of  evil. 

Cl.  ‘ If  we  abandon  all  human  analogy,  I am  afraid  we 
abandon  all  religion,  and  retain  no  conception  of  the 
great  object  of  our  adoration.  If  we  preserve  human 
analogy,  we  must  for  ever  find  it  impossible  to  reconcile 


122 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


any  mixture  of  evil  in  the  universe  with  infinite  attributes. 
But  supposing  the  Author  of  Nature  to  be  finitely  perfect, 
though  far  exceeding  mankind,  a satisfactory  account  may 
then  be  given  of  natural  and  moral  evil,  and  every  unto- 
ward phenomenon  be  explained  and  adjusted,  a less  evil 
may  be  chosen,  in  order  to  avoid  a greater.  . . . Benevo- 
lence, regulated  by  wisdom,  and  limited  by  necessity,  may 
produce  such  a world  as  the  present.’ 

Ph.  If  a very  limited  intelligence  were  assured  that  the 
universe,  with  which  he  was  at  the  moment  unacquainted, 
was  ‘ the  production  of  a very  good,  wise,  and  powerful 
being,  however  finite,’  he  could  never  fancy  that  the  effect 
could  be  so  full  of  vice  and  misery  and  disorder  as  it 
appears  in  this  life.  But  such  a limited  intelligence  must 
be  sensible  of  his  own  blindness  and  ignorance,  and  must 
allow  that  there  may  be  many  solutions  of  those  phenomena 
which  will  for  ever  escape  his  comprehension. 

There  seem  to  be  four  circumstances  on  which  depend 
all,  or  the  greatest  part  of  the  ills  that  molest  sensible 
creatures,  and  it  is  not  impossible  but  all  these  circum- 
stances may  be  necessary  and  unavoidable.  First,  ‘pain, 
as  well  as  pleasure,  is  employed  to  excite  all  creatures  to 
action.’  Second,  ‘ the  conducting  of  the  world  by  general 
laws.’  Third,  ‘ the  great  frugality  with  which  all  powers 
and  faculties  are  distributed.’  Fourth,  ‘the  inaccurate 
workmanship  of  all  the  springs  and  principles  of  the  great 
machine  of  nature.’  It  would  be  too  presumptuous  for 
creatures  so  blind  and  ignorant  as  we  ‘ to  say  that  these 
circumstances  are  not  necessary.’ 

‘ Some  ill  must  arise  in  the  various  shocks  of  matter ; ’ 
‘ but  this  ill  would  be  very  rare,  were  it  not  for  the  third 


DAVID  HUME 


123 


circumstance.’  ‘ Almost  all  the  moral,  as  well  as 
natural  evils  of  human  life,  arise  from  idleness.’  ‘In 
order  to  cure  most  of  the  ills  of  human  life,’  I do  not  ask 
that  man  be  endowed  with  greater  powers,  physical  or 
mental;  but  ‘let  him  be  endowed  with  a greater  pro- 
pensity to  industry  and  labour ; a more  vigorous  spring 
and  activity  of  mind ; a more  constant  bent  to  business 
and  application,’  with  ‘ a more  vigorous  spring  and  activity 
of  mind,’  ‘ the  exact  execution  of  every  office  and  duty  ’ 
would  ‘immediately  follow.’ 

Cleanthes  has  admitted  that  our  difficulties  in  dealing 
with  this  problem  of  evil  arise  from  the  representation 
of  the  Deity  as  infinite  in  all  his  attributes.  If  we  take 
the  opposite  course,  ‘ supposing  the  Author  of  nature  to 
be  finitely  perfect,’  this  old  ‘ Manichaean  system  * occurs 
as  a proper  hypothesis  to  solve  the  difficulty ; and  no 
doubt  in  some  respects  it  is  very  specious,  and  has  more 
probability  than  the  common  hypothesis,  by  giving  a 
plausible  account  of  the  strange  mixture  of  good  and  ill 
which  appears  in  life.  But  if  we  consider  on  the  other 
hand  the  perfect  uniformity  and  agreement  of  the  parts  of 
the  universe,  we  shall  not  discover  in  it  any  marks  of  the 
combat  of  a malevolent  with  a benevolent  being.’  ‘So 
long,’  however,  as  there  is  one  vice  at  all  in  the  universe  it 
will  very  much  puzzle  you  anthropomorphites — believers  in 
the  likeness  of  Divine  powers  to  human — how  to  account 
for  it.  You  must  assign  a cause  for  it,  without  having 
recourse  to  the  first  cause,  yet  you  must  ‘ rest  on  that 

* The  reader  will  remember  that  J.  S.  Mill  in  like  manner  retreats 
on  the  Manichean  hypothesis  for  escape  from  the  dark  problem  of 
evil. 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


124 

original  principle  which  is  the  ultimate  cause  of  all 
things.’ 

Demea.  ‘ Hold  ! Hold  ! I joined  in  alliance  with  you, 
in  order  to  prove  the  incomprehensible  nature  of  the 
Divine  Being,  and  refute  the  principles  of  him  who  would 
measure  everything  by  a human  rule  and  standard.’ 

Cl.  The  total  infirmity  of  human  reason,  the  absolute 
incomprehensibility  of  the  Divine  nature,  the  great  and 
universal  misery,  and  still  greater  wickedness  of  men,  these 
are  strange  topics  surely  to  be  so  fondly  cherished.’  But 
‘ your  friend  Philo  from  the  beginning  has  been  amusing 
himself  at  both  our  expense.’ 

Part  XII. — Results  of  the  discussion. 

Cl.  ‘Your  spirit  of  controversy,  joined  to  your  abhor- 
rence of  vulgar  superstition,  carries  you  strange  lengths 
when  engaged  in  an  argument ; and  there  is  nothing  so 
sacred  or  venerable,  even  in  your  own  eyes,  which  you 
spare  on  that  occasion.’ 

Ph.  ‘ I must  confess  that  I am  less  cautious  on  the 
subject  of  Natural  Religion  than  on  any  other,  both  be- 
cause I know  that  I can  never  on  that  head  corrupt  the 
principles  of  any  man  of  common  sense,  and  because  no 
one,  I am  confident,  in  whose  eyes  I appear  a man  of 
common  sense,  will  ever  mistake  my  intentions.  . . . 
Notwithstanding  the  freedom  of  my  conversation,  and 
my  love  of  singular  arguments,  no  one  has  a deeper  sense 
of  religion  impressed  on  his  mind,  or  pays  more  profound 
adoration  to  the  Divine  Being,  as  he  discovers  himself  to 
reason,  in  the  inexplicable  contrivance  and  artifice  of 
Nature.  . . . All  the  sciences  almost  lead  us  insensibly 


DAVID  HUME 


I25 


to  acknowledge  a first  intelligent  Author ; and  their 
authority  is  often  so  much  the  greater,  as  they  do  not 
directly  profess  their  intention.’ 

Cl.  * One  great  advantage  of  the  principle  of  Theism  is 
that  it  is  the  only  system  of  cosmogony  which  can  be 
rendered  intelligible  and  complete,  and  yet  can  throughout 
preserve  a strong  analogy  to  what  we  every  day  see  and 
experience  in  the  world.’  ‘ Whoever  attempts  to  weaken 
this  theory,’  can  only  ‘ by  remote  and  abstract  views  of 
things  reach  that  suspense  of  judgment  which  is  here  the 
utmost  boundary  of  his  wishes.’ 

Ph.  ‘ So  little  do  I esteem  this  suspense  of  judgment  in 
the  present  case  to  be  possible,  that  I am  apt  to  suspect 
there  enters  somewhat  of  a dispute  of  words  into  this  con- 
troversy, more  than  is  usually  imagined.  That  the  works 
of  Nature  bear  a great  analogy  to  the  productions  of  art 
is  evident,  . . . but  there  are  also  considerable  differences. 
. . . As  the  works  of  Nature  have  a much  greater  analogy 
to  the  effects  of  our  art  and  contrivance,  than  to  those  of 
our  benevolence  and  justice,  we  have  reason  to  infer  that 
the  natural  attributes  of  the  Deity  have  a greater  resem- 
blance to  those  of  men  than  his  moral  have  to  human 
virtues.  But  what  is  the  consequence  ? Nothing  but 
this,  that  the  moral  qualities  of  man  are  more  defective  in 
their  kind  than  his  natural  abilities.’  ‘ In  proportion  to 
my  veneration  for  true  religion  is  my  abhorrence  of  vulgar 
superstitions.’ 

Cl.  1 Religion,  however  corrupted,  is  still  better  than  no 
religion  at  all.’  ‘ The  proper  office  of  religion  is  to  regulate 
the  heart  of  men,  humanise  their  conduct,  infuse  the  spirit 
of  temperance,  order,  and  obedience ; and  as  its  operation 


126 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


is  silent,  and  only  enforces  the  motives  of  morality  and 
justice,  it  is  in  danger  of  being  overlooked,  and  confounded 
with  these  other  motives.  When  it  distinguishes  itself, 
and  acts  as  a separate  principle  over  men,  it  has  departed 
from  its  proper  sphere,  and  has  become  only  a cover  to 
faction  and  ambition.’ 


CHAPTER  VIII 


HUME  AMONG  HIS  FRIENDS 

Hume,  more  than  most  men  of  his  time,  is  known  by 
his  books.  His  writings  have  this  peculiar  value,  that 
they  shew  the  reader  much  of  his  individuality.  He 
deals  so  largely  with  the  moral  and  religious  life,  in 
practical  as  well  as  in  philosophical  aspects,  that  the 
pages  reveal  the  man,  whereas  it  often  happens  that 
a man’s  writings  are  a veil,  not  infrequently  a screen, 
concealing  the  author. 

When  we  pass  from  Hume’s  literary  efforts  to  his  social 
life,  the  man  is  again  revealed.  By  a series  of  reflected 
pictures,  vividly  accurate,  his  image  seems  thrown  on 
a mirror.  The  social  life  appears  broadly,  and  the  large 
variety  of  interest,  notwithstanding  his  seclusion,  often  ex- 
tends over  long  periods.  He  is  ‘ sociable,  though  he  lives 
in  solitude  ’ (Burton,  I.,  p.  226),  M.S.  Royal  Society,  Ed. 
One  has  only  to  name  a selection  of  those  with  whom  he 
enjoyed  the  intimacy  of  friendship,  in  order  to  suggest  the 
biographical  value  of  these  friendships,  and  of  the  records 
of  them  which  survive.  This  will  be  obvious  by  mere 
reference  to  his  friendship  with  Adam  Smith,  who  stands 
out  prominently  in  the  circle  of  chosen  companions ; with 
Strahan,  his  publisher  and  literary  adviser,  to  whom  he  is 


128 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


drawn  closer  as  the  work  of  life  advances  ; with  Home, 
author  of  Douglas,  illustrating  his  generous  interest  in 
the  literary  success  of  others ; with  Rousseau,  resulting 
from  his  residence  in  Paris,  in  course  of  which  we  see 
the  tenderness  and  generous  spirit  of  the  man,  though 
all  ends  in  vexatious  failure ; and  his  friendship  with  the 
Countess  de  Boufflers,  to  whom  he  is  attracted  by  her 
striking  intellectual  gifts,  and  with  whom  he  sympathises 
in  her  times  of  perplexity  and  adversity. 

Intellectual  ability  in  all  its  phases  finds  a ready  ad- 
miration. After  that,  he  is  attracted  to  social  life  by  his 
appreciation  of  social  pleasantries,  of  unrestrained  talk  on 
well-chosen  themes,  and  of  free  banter,  attended  with 
jest  which  has  no  bitterness  in  it, — a freedom  dear  to  him, 
in  accordance  with  the  customs  of  his  country. 

What  he  was  in  disposition  and  tendency  his  friends 
had  to  accept ; and  for  the  most  part  they  found  no 
great  difficulty  in  maintaining  regard  for  one  who  had  a 
large  share  of  dogmatism  in  his  conversation,  without  the 
Johnsonian  gruffness.  From  his  early  days  to  life’s  close, 
literary  ambition  was  the  main-spring  in  his  life ; next, 
there  was  in  him,  along  with  love  of  truth,  a strong  criti- 
cal spirit,  rejoicing  in  suspense  of  judgment  and  in  doubt ; 
and,  along  with  these,  an  intense  social  instinct,  which  to 
a man  largely  severed  from  family  ties,  brought,  in  the 
unrestrained  hours  of  leisure,  the  comfort  and  quietly 
stimulating  effects  of  social  interest,  with  play  of  fancy 
and  of  feeling.  These  things  indicate  how  much  Hume 
sought,  and  how  much  he  gave,  within  the  privileged 
circle  of  chosen  friends. 

Edinburgh,  the  city  of  his  birth,  continued  to  Hume 


DAVID  HUME 


129 


the  centre  of  attraction  all  his  life  through,  finding  the 
town  ‘ the  true  scene  for  a man  of  letters.’  Ninewells 
was  his  retreat  when  study  demanded  seclusion.  It  was 
the  home  centre  while  his  mother  lived  ; it  continued  his 
cherished  retreat  after  his  brother  was  owner,  his  sister-in- 
law  at  the  head  of  her  own  family  circle,  and  his  nephews 
were  gathering  the  fresh  associations  of  early  life.  The 
circle  attracted  him,  but  the  quietness  of  the  place  was  an 
allurement  dear  to  a philosopher.  But  Edinburgh  com- 
manded his  loyal  attachment  throughout.  It  was  the  city 
of  his  abode,  the  centre  of  his  friendships.  Whatever  the 
inducements  calling  him  away,  he  left  it  with  a grudge; 
when  engagements  elsewhere  were  closed,  he  always 
returned  with  delightful  anticipation  of  renewed  enjoy- 
ment of  his  social  surroundings.  Edinburgh  was  to 
Hume  what  it  afterwards  became  to  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  though  it  was  more  a centre  of  lifelong 
friendships  to  Hume  than  to  Stevenson,  who  found  in 
Samoa  the  attractive  climate  favourable  to  one  in  feeble 
health. 

Hume  experienced  no  serious  discomfort  in  the 
cold  of  an  Edinburgh  winter  and  spring.  He  could 
even  write  to  a friend  who  was  to  occupy  his  house, 
that  one  of  the  rooms  in  it  was  so  comfortable  that 
there  was  no  need  for  a fire  there,  even  on  a cold  night. 
His  native  city  was  his  chosen  dwelling.  He  had  his 
earlier  abode  at  different  points  in  the  historic  line  of 
street  from  the  Castle  to  Holyrood.  Once  in  the  Canon- 
gate,  well  down  the  line  towards  the  Palace,  afterwards  in 
the  Lawnmarket  in  James’s  Court,  almost  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Castle  walls,  in  one  of  the  high  lands,  with 

1 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


»3° 

grand  prospect  looking  across  the  Firth  of  Forth  to  Fife. 
Latterly  he  had  his  abode  in  the  New  Town,  beyond  the 
Nor’  Loch,  where  he  built  a house  on  the  rising  ground 
on  which  St  Andrew  Square  now  stands.  A wag  wrote  with 
chalk  upon  its  wall,  ‘ Saint  David,’  which  being  reported 
to  its  owner,  he  replied,  ‘ Many  a better  man  has  been 
made  a saint.’  The  name  became  a fixture,  for  the  street 
is  still  known  as  St  David  Street.  At  whatever  point  in 
it  he  fixed  his  dwelling,  the  city,  its  society,  and  its 
surroundings  concentrated  the  living  interests  of  the 
philosophic  historian. 

Only  once  did  he  hesitate  as  to  the  place  of  his  settled 
abode,  but  then  the  hesitation  was  serious.  It  was  when 
his  duties  as  Secretary  to  the  Embassy  in  Paris  came  to  a 
close.  The  attentions  and  flatteries  lavished  on  him  there 
stood  in  strong  contrast  with  the  suspicions  and  con- 
demnation which  met  him  in  Edinburgh.  ‘ Edinburgh 
has  many  objections  and  many  allurements,’  he  wrote. 
Quite  seriously  he  thought  of  seeking  some  genial  retreat 
in  France.  Adam  Smith  remonstrated  with  him  against 
such  a choice,  and  wrote  to  Millar,  the  bookseller,  asking 
him  to  advise  Hume  against  separation  from  his  life-long 
interests.  ‘ He  is  light-headed,  tell  him,  when  he  talks  of 
coming  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  here  (Paris)  or 
in  France.’  * Hume  soon  came  to  be  of  Smith’s  opinion, 
and  decided  against  settling  in  France,  fearing  that  he 
should  be  drawn  * into  engagements  with  princes  and 
great  lords  and  ladies.’  He  returned  to  Scotland.  The 
good  fortune  of  being  nominated  by  Mr  Conway  to  the 

* M.S.  Roval  Soc.,  Ed.  Letters  of  Hume  to  Strahan , Birkbeck 
Hill,  P.  59- 


DAVID  HUME 


I3I 

position  of  Under-Secretary  of  State  transferred  him  to 
London  for  a time,  but  there  the  power  of  the  magnet  in 
Edinburgh  was  felt  as  strongly  as  before. 

Among  his  friends  the  most  intimate  was  Adam  Smith, 
the  Kirkcaldy  boy,  twelve  years  his  junior,  son  of  the 
Comptroller  of  Customs  in  the  ‘ lang  toun,’  a Writer  to 
the  Signet,  and  Judge  Advocate  Depute  for  Scotland. 
The  historian  and  the  economist,  afterwards  author  of 
The  Wealth  of  Nations,  became  fast  friends.  A biographer 
cannot  write  of  the  one  without  writing  of  the  other. 

In  early  life  Hume  and  Smith  dwelt  remote  from  each 
other.  Chirnside  and  Kirkcaldy  were  far  apart.  Their 
intimacy  did  not  come  from  boyhood  years,  but  from  their 
early  manhood,  when  Hume  was  author  of  the  Treatise , 
and  the  younger  man  a student  at  Glasgow  University, 
having  an  eye  on  the  ‘ Snell  ’ Bursary,  which  would  open 
the  way  to  Oxford.  After  Smith’s  return  from  Oxford  he 
was  at  Kirkcaldy  from  1746  to  1748;  Hume  was  then 
absent  on  the  Continent  as  Secretary  to  General  St  Clair 
when  on  his  mission  to  the  Court  of  Turin.  By  the 
influence  of  Henry  Home  of  Kames  (afterwards  Lord 
Kames)  and  James  Oswald  of  Dunkier,  young  Smith 
came  to  Edinburgh  to  deliver  a course  of  lectures  on 
English  Literature.  This  course  was  largely  attended  by 
members  of  the  bar,  clergymen,  and  leading  citizens. 
These  lectures  were  given  throughout  three  successive 
winters,  until  the  lecturer  was  appointed  Professor  of 
Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Glasgow.  Through  the 
friendly  intervention  of  Home  and  Oswald,  Hume  and 
Smith  became  acquainted,  and  soon  they  were  fast  friends, 
sharing  in  a multitude  of  literary,  philosophic,  and  patriotic 


132 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


interests.  They  were  of  opposite  schools  of  politics — 
Hume  Tory,  Smith  Liberal — but  this  was  no  obstacle  to 
deepest  friendship.  From  this  time  there  was  laid  the 
foundation  of  a lifelong  intimacy.  So  strong  was  the 
mutual  attachment  that  it  was  to  Hume  an  additional 
attraction  to  the  view  from  the  high  windows  in  James’s 
Court  that  it  included  Kirkcaldy,  the  dwelling-place  of 
Adam  Smith,  whilst  Smith  addressed  Hume  as  ‘ My 
dearest  friend.’  In  his  valuable  Life  of  Adam  Smith,  Rae 
fitly  names  it ‘a  memorable  Roman  friendship  ’ (p.  105). 
When  the  end  of  life  approached,  and  Hume  prepared 
his  will,  ‘ My  friend,  Dr  Adam  Smith,  late  Professor  of 
Moral  Philosophy  in  Glasgow,’  is  named  as  literary 
executor  to  carry  out  his  most  cherished  desires. 

From  the  first  Hume  valued  Smith  as  a profound  and 
original  thinker ; Smith  looked  up  to  Hume  as  one  who 
had  greatly  influenced  him  by  his  Treatise  in  those  days 
when  he,  as  junior,  was  only  a student  in  Glasgow,  under 
the  teaching  of  Hutchison,  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy. 
That  Hume  was  twelve  years  older  than  his  friend  was  a 
fact  that  did  nothing  to  abate  the  frankness  of  the  elder, 
or  the  freedom  of  the  younger.  The  two  were  born 
‘ thinkers,’  each  finding  the  main  occupation  of  his  life  in 
study  of  abstract  problems,  and  each  finding  in  the  other 
a cherished  enthusiasm  for  literature  and  philosophy. 
Both  spent  much  time  in  silent  thought ; both  were  noted 
for  ‘ wealth  of  conversation  ’ when  in  a chosen  circle  of 
friends,  though  Smith  was  prone  to  silence  at  times ; and 
each  appreciated  the  variety  of  powers  belonging  to  the 
other.  Hume’s  Essay  on  the  Balance  of  Trade  seems  to 
have  arrested  the  attention  of  Adam  Smith,  whose  deep 


DAVID  HUME 


i33 


interest  in  questions  of  trade  and  commerce  found  quick- 
ening here.  Smith’s  bias  makes  it  easy  to  understand 
how  his  attention  would  be  attracted  by  an  argument 
against  the  tendency  in  nations  ‘ to  prohibit  the  exporta- 
tion of  commodities.’  How  valuable  must  have  seemed 
to  him  its  fundamental  position.  ‘ The  more  is  exported 
of  any  commodity,  the  more  will  be  raised  at  home,  of 
which  they  themselves  will  always  have  the  first  offer.’ 
This  opened  a wide  range  of  common  interest.  To  this 
and  to  the  more  practical  side  of  philosophy,  Smith  was 
devoted  ; he  did  not,  however,  enter  with  Hume’s  enthusi 
asm  into  the  speculative  region.  Smith  was  even  steadily 
opposed  to  Hume’s  publication  of  the  Dialogues  on  Religion. 
Hume  had  an  absorbing  devotion  to  the  speculative 
problems,  which  led  him  towards  sceptical  rather  than 
positive  conclusions. 

In  1749  Hume  returned  from  the  mission  to  Vienna 
and  Turin ; for  two  years  thereafter  he  was  at  Ninewells ; 
in  1751  he  came  to  Edinburgh,  where  the  Librarianship 
of  the  Advocates’  Library  opened  the  way  to  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  History.  It  was  at  this  juncture  Smith  was 
elected  Professor  of  Logic  in  Glasgow.  The  two  were 
parted,  just  when  the  opportunity  for  regular  interviews 
seemed  probable.  Such,  however,  was  their  devotion  to 
each  other,  that  Smith  often  came  from  Glasgow,  though 
the  journey  in  these  days  occupied  thirteen  hours. 
Hume’s  house  was  Smith’s  abode  at  such  times;  the 
summer  recess  brought  to  Smith  the  satisfaction  of  ex- 
tended residence  in  Edinburgh.  Their  friendship  was 
constant ; their  co-operation  in  public  enterprise  incessant. 
Smith  was  transferred  to  the  Chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  in 


134 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


1752,  when  Hume  became  a candidate  for  the  Chair  of 
Logic,  but  without  success,  since  he  had  roused  an  adverse 
feeling  which  shewed  its  strength  as  soon  as  he  sought 
the  position  of  a public  teacher.  Smith  is  constrained 
to  abandon  hope  of  Hume’s  success ; saying  to  Professor 
Cullen : — ‘ I would  prefer  David  Hume  to  any  man  for 
the  College ; but  I am  afraid  the  public  would  not  be  of 
my  opinion.’  Hume  had  to  retire  from  the  conflict  a 
defeated  candidate. 

Smith  gave  his  interest  and  effort  to  the  advancement 
of  education  in  the  University  of  Glasgow,  and  of  literary 
taste  in  the  city,  finding  there  many  willing  coadjutors. 
But  it  was  in  Edinburgh  that  the  largest  gathering  of  men 
outside  the  University  shewed  unceasing  resolution  for 
advancement  of  literature,  philosophy,  science  and  social 
organisation.  There  were  Lord  Kames  (Henry  Home); 
his  brother,  John  Home,  minister  of  Athelstaneford, 
author  of  Douglas ; Adam  Ferguson,  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy;  Gilbert  Elliot,  M.P. ; Sir  David  and  Sir 
John  Dairy mple;  Robertson,  Blair,  Alexander  Carlyle, 
William  Wilkie,  minister  of  Ratho,  and  author  of  the 
Epigoniad,  with  many  more  in  the  midst  of  whom 
Hume  and  Smith  were  recognised  as  the  most  active 
and  able.  Hume  with  a ‘strong  and  capacious  mind,’ 
Smith  with  a practical  sagacity  which  excelled  that  of 
his  senior.  The  three  philosophers,  David  Hume, 
Adam  Smith,  and  Adam  Ferguson  had,  in  all  literary 
circles,  the  deference  to  which  their  distinctive  writings 
entitled  them. 

On  the  proposal  of  Smith,  Hume  was  made  a member 
of  ‘The  Literary  Society’  of  Glasgow.  In  Edinburgh, 


DAVID  HUME 


J35 

Hume  was  Secretary  to  ‘ The  Philosophical  Society,’  after- 
wards merged  in  ‘ The  Royal  Society.’  Smith  was  elected 
a member  of  ‘The  Philosophical’  in  1752. 

Smith  was  a leading  spirit  in  the  formation  of  ‘The 
Select  Society  ’ of  Edinburgh,  constituted  on  the  model  of 
the  ‘ French  Academy,’  and  first  proposed  by  Oswald  and 
Allan  Ramsay.  Adam  Smith  made  the  opening  speech 
explanatory  of  the  objects  and  constitution.  The  Society 
at.  once  gained  favour,  the  membership  quickly  rising  from 
15  members,  the  original  number,  to  130,  including  the 
most  illustrious  names  at  a notable  period  in  the  history 
of  Scotland.  The  weekly  debates  maintained  by  the 
Society  proved  animated  and  effective.  Hume  boasts 
of  them  that  ‘the  House  of  Commons  was  less  the 
object  of  general  curiosity  to  London  than  the  Select 
Society  is  to  Edinburgh.’  Here  young  advocates, 
ministers  and  literary  men,  had  an  arena  for  distinction, 
and  ‘long  drawling  speakers  found  out  their  want  of 
talents.’  The  range  of  subjects  was  wide,  chiefly  poli- 
tical and  economic  [Scots  Magazine , xix.,  163),  the  limits 
imposed  being  indicated  by  exclusion  of  ‘ such  as  regard 
revealed  religion,  or  which  may  give  occasion  to  vent  any 
principles  of  Jacobitism.’ 

Out  of  this  Society  originated  the  Edinburgh  Society 
for  encouraging  art,  science,  manufactures,  and  agri- 
culture. In  this  movement,  Hume  and  Smith  had  a 
part,  being  placed  together  on  the  Committee  for  Belles- 
Lettres  and  Criticism. 

In  the  midst  of  these  manifold  activities,  a restless  feeling 
was  stirring  in  religious  circles  on  account  of  the  unreserved 
sceptical  bias  of  Hume’s  works.  Campbell  [Lives  of  the 


136 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Chancellors,  vol.  vi.,  18)  describes  it  as  ‘a  state  of  extra- 
ordinary ferment.’  In  1755  Hume  and  Lord  Kames  were 
threatened  with  a summons  to  appear  before  the  General 
Assembly  to  give  account  of  their  published  views,  and 
with  possible  ex-communication.  The  mover  (Anderson) 
was  not  influential  but  he  was  persistent,  and,  by  careful 
adherence  to  form,  was  able  to  put  the  machinery  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  Church  in  motion.  Hume  made 
light  of  it  all,  in  his  own  jaunty  way ; the  member  of  the 
College  of  Justice  was  more  disturbed.  They  trusted  to 
Robertson,  the  leader  of  the  House,  and  to  the  young 
advocate,  Alexander  Wedderburn,  then  rising  into  influ- 
ence, to  trace  the  limits  of  reasonable  ecclesiastical  pro- 
cedure, and  to  vindicate  freedom  of  thought  in  the  field  of 
literature.  The  anxiety  of  the  two  authors — which  appears 
strange  to  us — was  not  unnatural  a century  and  a half  ago. 
Religious  faith  and  feeling  had  encountered  a rude  shock 
from  the  writings  of  Hume,  and  the  age  was  one  which 
gave  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  Church  a wide  dominion 
over  all  the  subjects.  A prudent  reserve  was  maintained 
in  the  exercise  of  ecclesiastical  authority.  The  majority 
of  a court,  which  had  dealt  hardly  with  its  own  members 
in  1733  and  1752 — when  pleading  in  the  interests  of 
evangelical  religion  for  the  rights  of  the  people  in  election 
of  their  ministers — dealt  more  leniently  with  the  sceptic 
and  with  the  speculative  thinker  on  the  bench,  the  latter, 
indeed,  being  exempted  from  the  more  serious  charges 
advanced.  Majorities  had  been  found  to  depose  Ebenezer 
Erskine  and  his  companions,  and  also  Thomas  Gillespie, 
a few  years  afterwards,  for  refusing  to  share  in  the  induc- 
tion of  ministers  presented  by  the  patron  but  rejected  by 


DAVID  HUME 


137 


the  people.  But  when  the  Assembly  were  asked  ‘ to  call 
before  them  ’ ‘ one  person  styling  himself  David  Hume, 
Esq.,  who  hath  arrived  at  such  a degree  of  boldness  as  to 
avow  himself  the  author  of  books  containing  the  most  rude 
and  open  attacks  on  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ,’  they 
declined  to  exercise  their  authority — refused  to  examine 
his  books  and  to  pronounce  a formal  decision  upon  them 
— making  in  this  a beginning  in  the  recognition  of  that 
liberty  to  think  and  to  publish  according  to  conviction, 
which  we  now  value  and  deem  essential  to  true  progress 
in  thought.  But  in  these  days  ‘ the  ferment  ’ was  serious. 
The  force  of  religious  antagonism  to  Hume  was  such  that 
his  friend  Smith  hesitated  to  associate  Hume  with  other 
writers  in  a literary  adventure  of  the  time — the  institution 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review , in  anticipation  of  the  famous 
Journal  which,  under  the  guidance  of  Jeffrey,  afterwards 
appeared  under  the  familiar  title.  The  young  advocate, 
just  referred  to  as  the  defender  of  Hume  in  the  Assembly, 
was  the  Editor  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  of  1755,  a young 
man  of  high  ability  and  vast  energy,  who  afterwards  rose 
to  be  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England,  and  became 
Earl  of  Rosslyn.  On  the  staff  of  writers  there  were  Adam 
Smith,  Robertson  and  Blair — all  the  familiar  friends  of 
Hume.  The  religious  antipathy  stirring  so  strongly 
against  him  seems  to  have  induced  them  to  hesitate  to 
include  him  on  the  staff,  and  they  kept  from  him  the 
information  as  to  their  plans.  The  object  of  the 
Edinburgh  Review  was  ‘to  shew  men  at  this  particular 
stage  of  the  country’s  progress  the  gradual  advance  of 
science  would  be  a means  of  inciting  them  to  a more 
eager  pursuit  of  learning,  to  distinguish  themselves,  and 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


138 

to  do  honour  to  their  country.’  The  bare  suspicion  that 
Hume  was  directly  concerned  in  the  venture  went  against 
its  chances  of  success,  and  the  Review  did  not  get  beyond 
its  second  number,  published  January  1756.  In  1818, 
Sir  James  Mackintosh  republished  the  two  numbers,  as 
containing  ‘ the  first  printed  writings  of  Adam  Smith  and 
Robertson,  and  the  only  known  publication  of  Lord  Chan- 
cellor Rosslyn  ’ (Alexander  Wedderburn).  In  his  preface 
to  the  republication  given  in  Mackintosh’s  works,  vol.  ii., 
p.  470,  Sir  James  says  that  ‘the  temper  of  the  people  of 
Scotland  was  at  that  moment  peculiarly  jealous  in  every 
question  that  approached  the  boundaries  of  theology’ 
(p.  473).  Unfortunately  the  projectors  did  not  feel 
that  their  craft  was  trimmed  and  manned  to  face  the 
storm.  The  Edinburgh  Review  disappeared,  its  name 
reserved  for  the  later  and  better  venture  planned  in 
Buccleuch  Place  by  Jeffrey  and  others  in  1802. 
Hume  was  too  well  aware  of  the  antagonism  he  had 
roused,  the  result  of  acting  as  one  ‘desirous  of  being 
hated  by  the  public,’  to  be  offended  by  his  exclusion, 
when  the  secret  came  out. 

In  1758  Hume  made  a vigorous  effort  to  get  Smith  to 
Edinburgh,  as  successor  to  Professor  Abercromby  in  the 
Chair  of  Public  Law ; but  Smith  declined  to  think  of  it, 
and  continued  other  five  years  in  Glasgow  University. 
The  two  continued  in  co-operation  exactly  as  if  Edinburgh 
had  been  the  place  of  residence  for  both.  Their  next 
joint  effort  was  in  a political  movement  for  the  advance  of 
their  country.  The  Jacobite  rebellion  had  left  in  England 
a sense  of  distrust  of  the  Scotch,  the  manifestation  of 
which,  in  the  rejection  in  1760  of  a Bill  for  a Scotch 


DAVID  HUME 


*39 


militia.  The  irritation  occasioned  in  Scotland  led  to  the 
formation  of  * The  Edinburgh  Poker  Club  ’in  1762.  This 
was  a convivial  club,  with  a definite  political  purpose, — 
‘ the  poker  ’ being  the  symbol  of  a purpose  to  stir  the  fire 
of  agitation  against  the  action  of  Parliament,  and  the 
English  prejudices  which  sustained  it  in  the  course  taken. 
The  declared  object  of  the  Club  was  to  obtain  greater 
security  ‘ for  the  freedom  and  independence  of  these 
islands.’  Hume,  Smith  and  Ferguson  were  members  of 
the  ‘ Poker,’  the  words  quoted  being  those  of  the  philo- 
sopher last  named.  Gradually  the  favour  for  a standing 
army  extended  throughout  the  nation,  and  when  in  1776 
the  Scotch  Militia  Bill  of  Lord  Montstuart  was  introduced, 
there  was  much  less  complaint  over  it,  even  though  a militia 
was  granted  to  Ireland,  while  it  was  refused  to  Scotland. 

Shortly  after  the  founding  of  ‘ The  Poker  Club,’  Hume 
had  gone  to  Paris,  as  Secretary  to  Lord  Hertford,  British 
Ambassador.  Hume  left  hurriedly,  and  had  time  only  to 
send  to  Smith  a word  of  explanation.  Smith  had  been 
pleading  with  Hume  to  visit  Glasgow,  and  Hume,  in  a vein 
of  pleasantry,  in  March  1763,  writes: — ‘You  maybe  sure 
a journey  to  Glasgow  will  be  one  of  the  first  I shall  under- 
take. I intend  to  require  with  great  strictness  an  account 
of  how  you  have  been  employing  your  leisure,  and  I desire 
you  to  be  ready  for  that  purpose.  Woe  be  to  you  if  the 
balance  be  against  you.’  By  the  month  of  August  Hume 
wrote  to  tell  of  his  departure  for  Paris.  ‘ I am  a little 
hurried  in  my  preparations,  but  I could  not  depart  without 
bidding  you  adieu,  my  good  friend,  and  without  acquaint- 
ing you  with  the  reasons  of  so  sudden  a movement.’  He 
closes  the  letter  saying — ‘ We  may  meet  abroad,  which 


14° 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


will  be  a great  satisfaction  to  me.’  This  meeting  came 
sooner  than  either  expected.  When  Hume  had  reached 
Paris,  his  first  letter  was  to  Smith,  telling  how  he  had 
* suffered  as  much  flattery  as  almost  any  man  has  ever  done 
in  the  same  time,’  and  he  tells  him  that,  under  the  eye  of 
the  Baron  d’Holbach,  there  is  one  engaged  in  translating 
his  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments.  In  the  following  October 
(1763),  Smith  received  a letter  proposing  that  he  should 
accompany  the  young  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  then  at  Eton, 
on  a continental  tour,  in  course  of  which  education  might 
be  blended  with  travel  and  relaxation,  offering  the  philoso- 
pher ^300  a year  while  so  engaged,  and  ^300  a year  for 
life  thereafter.  The  Professor  accepted,  resigned  his  Moral 
Philosophy  Chair,  and  turned  his  face  for  the  first  time  to 
the  Continent,  with  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  and  his  com- 
panion, Sir  James  Macdonald  of  Sleat.  ‘ Sir  James  was 
heir  of  the  old  Lords  of  the  Isles,  and  son  of  the  lady  who, 
with  her  factor,  Kingsburgh,  harboured  Prince  Charles  and 
Flora  Macdonald  in  Skye’  (Rae,  Life  of  Adam  Stnith, 
p.  174).  The  travellers  reached  Paris  in  February  of 
1764,  when,  during  a stay  of  ten  days,  most  of  Smith’s 
time  was  spent  in  the  company  of  Hume.  Thereafter  the 
time  of  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch  was  spent  in  Toulouse, 
Bordeaux,  and  Montpelier.  Afterwards  he  and  his  tutor 
came  to  Geneva,  where  Smith  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Voltaire,  for  whose  literary  ability  he  had  a high  admira- 
tion. In  course  of  the  residence  at  the  different  places 
selected,  Smith  had  much  time  on  his  hand.  On  5th  July 
1 764,  he  writes  to  Hume: — ‘ The  life  which  I led  at  Glas- 
gow was  a pleasurable,  dissipated  life  in  comparison  of 
that  which  I lead  here  at  present.  I have  begun  to  write 


DAVID  HUME 


141 

a book,  in  order  to  pass  away  the  time.’  This  is  the  first 
reference  to  the  writing  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations.  When 
the  travellers  returned  to  Paris  in  1765,  Hume  had  lost 
his  position  at  the  Embassy,  and  was  preparing  for  his 
departure,  when  Rousseau  was  to  go  with  him  to  England. 
Smith’s  arrival  in  Paris  at  this  juncture  gave  opportunity 
for  again  spending  several  days  with  Hume. 

It  was  not  till  177 6,  the  year  of  Hume’s  death,  that 
Adam  Smith  published  the  Wealth  of  Nations.  Hume 
took  a warm  interest  in  the  success  of  the  book,  as  he  had 
done  in  the  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments.  He  wrote  his 
friend  expressing  in  warmest  terms  his  admiration  of  the 
book.  ‘ It  has  depth,  and  solidity,  and  acuteness,  and  is 
so  much  illustrated  by  curious  facts,  that  it  must  at  last 
attract  the  public  attention.’  Gibbon,  in  a letter  to  Adam 
Ferguson,  described  it  as  ‘ an  extensive  science  in  a single 
book.’  The  work  arrested  public  attention  in  a large 
degree,  commanded  careful  study  from  many  distinguished 
parliamentary  leaders,  supplied  the  educational  influence 
which  prepared  for  the  Free-Trade  policy  adopted  in  the 
mother  country  of  all  the  English  speaking  nations,  and 
was  accepted  as  a classic  in  the  literature  of  Political  Science. 
Hume  begins  his  letter  to  the  author  : — ‘ Euge  ! Belle  ! — 
Dear  Mr  Smith, — I am  much  pleased  with  your  perfor- 
mance.’ The  words  were  written  only  a few  months  before 
the  pen  dropped  from  the  writer’s  hand, — a pen  wielded 
powerfully  when  arguing  for  removal  of  commercial  re- 
strictions, pleading  for  ‘ that  free  communication  and 
exchange,  which  the  author  of  the  world  has  intended  by 
giving  them  soils,  climates,  and  genuises,  so  different  from 
each  other.’ 


142 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


One  cannot  tell  of  Hume’s  friendships  without  noting 
the  warm  interest  manifested  by  him  in  the  literary  labours 
and  successes  of  his  compeers.  Whether  we  refer  to 
Adam  Smith,  or  to  Robertson,  or  to  John  Home,  author 
of  Douglas , we  find  evidence  of  his  generous  admiration 
and  joy  in  their  success.  To  this  must  be  added  his 
resolute  efforts  to  help  forward  young  aspirants,  unknown 
in  literary  circles,  or  battling  with  difficulties.  Witness  his 
efforts  for  Thomas  Blacklock,  the  blind  poet,  residing  in 
Dumfries,  by  whose  ‘ gentle  sensitive  character  and  hard 
fate  ’ he  was  greatly  moved.  For  ‘ the  son  of  a poor 
tradesman  ’ he  made  strong  efforts  to  clear  the  way, 
esteeming  as  a young  man  ‘ of  modesty,  virtue,  and  good- 
ness, as  well  as  of  genius;  ’ and  one  who,  ‘ notwithstanding 
very  strict  frugality,  is  in  great  necessities.’  To  Blacklock 
he  for  a time  gave  the  salary  which  came  to  him  for  his 
duties  at  the  Advocates’  Library,  when,  having  quarrelled 
with  the  committee  of  management,  he  was  preparing  for 
resignation.  Another  example  of  enthusiastic  effort,  in 
which,  however,  his  goodness  of  heart  outran  his  caution, 
is  presented  in  his  introduction  of  Macpherson  with  his 
professed  ‘ Ossian  ’ manuscripts  to  the  literary  circles  of 
London.  Johnson  suspected  deception  from  the  first, 
and  expressed  his  disdain  in  one  of  his  usual  outbursts. 
But  Hume  did  not  easily  relax  his  interest,  and  feeling  some 
pride  in  the  proof  of  poetic  gift  among  the  Highlanders 
of  Scotland,  stuck  to  his  prot£g£,  till  doubts  came  to 
disturb  his  own  confidence  and  to  weaken  his  zeal. 

When  Hume  was  suddenly  transferred  to  the  British 
Embassy  at  Paris  a quite  new  social  experience  opened  to 
him.  After  being  presented  at  Court,  he  was,  as  we  have 


DAVID  HUME 


U3 


seen,  welcomed  to  the  literary  gatherings  of  the  French 
metropolis.  He  was  delighted  to  find  himself  in  a city 
where  literary  merit  gave  a free  pass  to  the  best  society, 
and  he  was  naturally  elated  by  the  reception  extended 
to  him.  Sceptical  tendencies  presented  no  barriers, 
and  awakened  neither  suspicions  nor  aversions.  He 
was  flattered  even  in  little  set  speeches  which  struck  him 
as  novel ; he  was  ‘ lionised  ’ ; and  became  noted  as  ‘ the 
Great  David.’  For  a season,  he  passed  through  a round 
of  gaiety,  not  altogether  favourable  to  friendship  in  its  best 
sense.  Only  slowly  did  he  succeed  in  reaching  the  literary 
men  of  Paris  in  their  more  familiar  gatherings.  But  at 
length  he  secured  the  friendship  of  many  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  them,  although  the  duties  of  his  office  made  it 
needful  to  give  his  chief  attention  to  ‘ society,’  where 
Court  influences  could  be  best  considered,  and  the  require- 
ments of  an  ambassador  could  be  best  served. 

In  Parisian  circles,  he  met  a scepticism  which  out- 
stretched the  utmost  length  of  his  expressed  doubts.  On 
one  occasion  in  Edinburgh  he  was  saluted  by  a brilliant 
lady  as  a Deist,  and  resented  the  suggestion,  saying 
that  he  had  no  desire  to  be  regarded  in  this  light.  On 
another  occasion  in  Paris,  when  dining  with  the  Baron 
d’Holbach,  Hume  said  to  his  host  that  he  ‘ had  not  seen  an 
Atheist,  and  did  not  believe  that  there  was  one,’  to  which 
the  Baron  replied,  ‘ you  are  here  at  table  with  seventeen.’ 
Hume  learned  to  respect  many  of  these  men,  but  his 
acquaintance  did  not  induce  him  to  change  his  deliber- 
ately expressed  judgment  which  he  was  at  pains  to  have 
published — ‘ Surely  nothing  can  afford  a stronger  pre- 
sumption that  any  set  of  principles  are  true,  and  ought  to 


144 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


be  embraced,  than  to  observe  that  they  tend  to  the  con- 
firmation of  true  religion,  and  serve  to  confound  the  cavils 
of  Atheists,  Libertines,  and  Free-thinkers  of  all  denomina- 
tions.’* 

In  Paris,  Hume  soon  became  a recognised  favourite 
among  the  ladies  who  reigned  over  the  salons  where 
literary  men  mingled  with  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  high 
rank.  He  gained  the  acquaintance  of  all  these  guides  of 
fashion,  and  his  presence  was  eagerly  desired  when  their 
invitations  were  issued.  This  arose  out  of  the  unbounded 
good  humour  of  the  man,  his  ready  delight  in  the  pleas- 
antries of  good  society,  and  his  willingness,  after  his  first 
shyness  was  over,  to  contribute  to  the  glancing  mirth 
which  gave  zest  to  the  evening.  Out  of  this  sprung  also 
not  a few  valued  friendships ; such  as  come  from  more 
serious  lines  of  thought,  and  common  interest  in  subjects 
of  careful  study.  Of  these  the  best  example  appears  in 
his  friendship  with  the  Countess  de  Boufflers.  Among 
the  favourites  of  Court,  he  found  not  a few  ladies  who 
were  ‘ great  readers,’  having  at  the  same  time  ‘ great  sense 
and  an  agreeable  conversation,’  but  the  Countess  de 
Boufflers  shewed  deep  interest  in  his  own  works,  and 
in  all  the  questions  philosophical  and  political  which 
engrossed  his  thoughts.  Their  correspondence,  of  which  a 
large  selection  is  published,  shews  the  breadth  of  interest 
she  felt  in  the  great  problems  of  life.  Their  earlier  letters 
concern  largely  the  persons  holding  prominent  positions, 
and  the  books  which  merited  careful  study.  At  a later 
period  the  Countess  came  to  make  Hume  more  of  a con- 
fidant who  would  feel  some  direct  interest  in  her  ambi- 
* Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion,  Part  I.,  p.  21. 


DAVID  HUME 


145 


tions,  and,  even  more  certainly,  some  compassion  for  her 
in  her  disappointments  and  trials.  The  Count  de  Boufflers 
does  not  seem  to  have  concerned  himself  much  with  the 
gaieties  of  his  wife.  She,  feeling  the  lurements  of  a gay 
court,  was  drawn  into  intrigue  and  into  clandestine 
relations  with  the  Prince  of  Conti  which  were  at  first  only 
faintly  veiled,  and  were  afterwards  accounted  as  affording 
a basis  for  social  distinction.  After  the  death  of  the 
Count  she  cherished  the  further  ambitious  hope  of  finding 
her  place  as  a member  of  the  royal  family.  The  doubts 
and  fears  of  that  dark,  silent,  restless  season,  when  hope 
and  fear  contended  with  each  other,  and  were  constantly 
supplanting  each  other,  were  freely  communicated  to  Hume, 
and  this  in  manner  which  touched  his  compassion,  bringing 
his  sympathy  into  active  exercise,  in  the  midst  of  such 
opportunities  as  his  official  position  afforded.  Writing  on 
28th  November  1764,  he  assures  her  that  he  has  kept 
‘ eyes  and  ears  open  with  regard  to  everything  that  con- 
cerns her  affair.’  He  even  goes  so  far  as  to  report  from 
‘ the  best  informed  ’ an  impression  1 that  a resolution  had 
been  taken  in  her  favour,’  fanning  the  flame  of  ambition 
soon  to  be  damped  and  to  die  out.  Such  a friendship 
was  not  to  be  lost  sight  of ; the  Countess  clung  to  it  with 
great  confidence  ; and,  even  after  hope  had  been  displaced 
by  the  bitterness  of  disappointment,  she  received  gratefully 
Hume’s  counsel  as  coming  from  one  who  had  expressed 
deep  compassion  for  her  ‘ in  her  present  melancholy  situa- 
tion,’ when  having  been  seemingly  brought  ‘ within  reach 
of  honour  and  felicity,’  she  is  slowly  but  surely  being 
lowered  into  overwhelming  dismay.  Then  he  counsels 
courage,  and  the  firm  resolution  of  one  who  has  nerved 


K 


146 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


herself  for  the  supreme  effort  of  breaking  off  an  alliance 
which  is  closing  in  sword-thrusts,  endangering  to  health, 
and  fatal  to  the  peace  and  hope  of  an  honourable  life. 
With  a feeling  altogether  suitable  to  the  occasion,  he 
writes — ‘ The  measure  which  I recommend  to  you  requires 
courage,  but  I dread  that  nothing  else  will  be  able  to  pre- 
vent the  consequences  so  justly  apprehended  ’ (. Private 
Corr.  of  D.  Hume , published  1820,  p.  112  ; Burton,  II., 
p.  249).  So  much  did  the  Countess  in  the  calmer  hours 
of  later  years  value  the  friendship  of  so  faithful  yet  sympa- 
thetic a counsellor,  that  correspondence  was  maintained 
by  her  after  Hume  had  finally  returned  to  his  own  land. 
She  even  became  in  turn  a truly  sympathetic  friend  of 
the  Scottish  philosopher  when  disaster  fell  on  his  rela- 
tions with  Rousseau  ( Private  Correspondence , cf.  p.  171, 
p.  186). 

To  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  the  literary  rivals  dividing 
the  honours  of  the  day,  Hume  was  naturally  attracted  on 
account  of  their  conspicuous  ability.  His  interest  in  them 
was  further  quickened  by  his  own  intellectual  bias  in 
favour  of  a sceptical  tendency.  He  felt  besides,  notwith- 
standing the  reckless  extravagance  of  their  writings,  that 
a service  was  being  done  in  a very  rude  manner,  and  too 
often  in  a blasphemous  spirit  in  breaking  up  the  dominion 
of  evil  traditions,  and  preparing  the  way  for  the  freedom 
and  breadth  of  thought  which  must  be  the  conditions  of 
progress. 

Hume  never  came  into  close  friendship  with  Voltaire. 
From  his  private  correspondence  it  is  clear  that  he 
had  a great  admiration  of  * the  many  fine  things  ’ in 
Voltaire’s  writings.  But  circumstances  did  not  favour 


DAVID  HUME 


147 


close  intimacy.  Hume  was,  indeed,  in  thorough  agree- 
ment with  Voltaire  in  his  antagonism  to  the  Church  of 
Rome,  because  of  its  fostering  of  superstition  among  the 
people,  licentiousness  among  the  priests,  and  intolerance 
towards  all  who  valued  freedom  of  thought.  To  this 
extent  the  two  were  in  full  sympathy.  But  Hume  had 
learned  at  an  early  stage  in  his  experience  as  a servant 
of  the  British  Crown,  that  Voltaire  was  reckless  and 
virulent  in  assault,  and  relentless  in  spirit.  Hume’s  judg- 
ment was  this  : — ‘ He  never  forgives,  and  never  thinks 
any  enemy  below  his  notice’  (Burton,  II.,  195).  Vet, 
when  Hume  found  himself  rising  into  general  popu- 
larity in  France,  he  felt  it  desirable  to  seek  somewhat 
friendly  relations  with  Voltaire.  In  a letter  to  Colonel 
Edmonstoune,  written  from  Paris  on  9th  January  1764, 
he  says,  * when  I arrived  in  Paris  all  M.  Voltaire’s  friends 
told  me  of  the  regard  he  always  expressed  for  me ; that 
some  advances  on  my  part  were  due  to  his  age,  and  would 
be  well  taken.  I accordingly  wrote  him  a letter  in  which 
I expressed  the  esteem  undoubted  due  to  his  talents  ; and 
among  other  things  I said  that  if  I were  not  confined  to 
Paris  by  public  business,  I should  have  a great  ambition 
to  pay  him  a visit  at  Geneva  ’ (Burton,  II.,  1 84).  But  no 
great  intimacy  sprung  up  between  them.  Geneva  was 
too  far  distant  from  Paris ; Hume  was  too  closely  held 
by  the  demands  of  his  secretarial  duties ; and  they  do  not 
seem  to  have  met.  There  was,  however,  mutual  interest 
and  regard  which  found  occasional  expression.  When  the 
outburst  of  Rousseau’s  wrath  brought  Hume  into  serious 
trouble,  Voltaire  wrote  a letter,  dated  Ferney,  24th  October 
1766,  to  express  his  sympathy,  mingled  with  ready 


148 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


sarcasm  directed  against  Rousseau  (Voltaire’s  (Euvres, 
ed.  1789,  lxiv.,  495  ; Burton,  II.,  358). 

With  Rousseau,  Hume  came  into  close  and  most  friendly 
relations,  attracted  not  only  by  his  brilliant  gifts,  but  also 
by  compassion  for  his  many  sorrows,  and  specially  by 
sympathy  of  most  direct  and  active  form  when  persecution 
threatened  him  with  loss  of  liberty.  Rousseau  had 

enjoyed  at  an  earlier  stage  a period  of  quiet  peaceful 
experience  when  he  found  satisfaction  in  literary  work. 
This  was  the  Montmorency  period,  when  he  enjoyed  the 
friendly  and  generous  interest  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Luxembourg,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  meeting  many 
of  the  highest  rank  in  France.  But  when  Hume  came  to 
know  him,  Rousseau  had  fallen  on  evil  times.  A trying 
combination  of  circumstances  made  his  life  miserable. 
He  was  as  much  as  ever  the  brilliant  writer,  the  flashes  of 
whose  wit  and  genius  delighted  his  countrymen ; but  the 
author  was  wretched,  as  one  driven  to  bay  and  tormented. 
This  bitter  experience  was  largely  due  to  his  own  lack  of 
self-control.  He  had  the  sad  inheritance  of  an  excitable 
nervous  temperament  inducing  miserable  recklessness; 
his  domestic  life  did  nothing  to  soothe  or  elevate  daily 
experience;  his  own  self-indulgent  irresolute  spirit  con- 
stantly aggravated  his  troubles.  Many  in  high  rank  did 
much  to  abate  his  sorrows ; but  the  rulers  of  the  nation 
suspected  his  evil  influence,  and  threatened  him  with 
condign  restraint ; while  popular  applause  brought  occa- 
sional relief  and  brightness,  it  could  not  bring  deliverance 
from  the  growing  burden  of  life.  He  grew  increasingly 
irritable,  suspicious,  and  miserable ; this  evil  spirit  of 
unrest  was  aggravated  by  sarcasm  levelled  against  his 


DAVID  HUME 


149 


vanity,  and  by  practical  jokes,  the  worst  of  which  was 
perpetrated  by  Horace  Walpole  who  wrote  him  a letter  of 
large  promise  assuming  the  semblance  and  signature  of 
the  Great  Frederick  of  Prussia.  Rousseau  was  maddened 
by  these  things,  and  was  gradually  moving  on  a dangerous 
incline  towards  insanity. 

Hume  proved  a warm-hearted  generous  friend  who 
stood  by  Rousseau  in  these  days  of  trouble.  Hume’s 
sympathy  soothed  the  fevered  brain,  irritated  by  miseries, 
real  and  imaginary,  and  it  animated  the  disturbed  life  by 
inspiring  fresh  hope.  The  Scotchman  who  had  thought  of 
forsaking  his  own  country  in  order  to  settle  in  France, 
became  the  adviser  of  the  French  litterateur  counselling 
withdrawal  from  his  country,  and  promising  a safe  retreat 
in  England.  He,  who  gave  the  counsel,  was  ready  to 
undertake  guidance  and  responsibility.  So  it  happened 
that  when  Hume’s  time  for  leaving  France  had  come,  at 
the  close  of  1765,  Rousseau  had  arrived  in  Paris  to  act 
in  accordance  with  his  friend’s  suggestion,  and,  as  it 
happened,  to  travel  with  him  to  England.  He  had  in 
Hume  a true  friend  whose  feelings  were  thus  expressed, 

‘ I must  own  I felt  on  this  occasion  an  emotion  of  pity, 
mixed  with  indignation,  to  think  a man  of  letters  of  such 
eminent  merit  should  be  reduced  in  spite  of  the  simplicity 
of  his  manner  of  living  to  such  extreme  indigence ; and 
that  this  unhappy  state  should  be  rendered  more  intoler- 
able by  sickness,  by  the  approach  of  old  age,  and  the 
implacable  rage  of  persecution’  (Burton,  II.,  296).  To 
his  burdened  life  the  prospect  of  an  English  home  seemed 
an  escape  from  a load  of  woe.  He  arrived  in  Paris  a 
marked  man,  outlawed  by  Parliament,  yet  sheltered  by 


15° 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


the  Prince  of  Conti,  strange  in  appearance,  wearing  an 
American  dress,  dreaded  by  the  ruling  authorities,  idolised 
by  the  people  who  were  moving  towards  their  own 
paroxysm  of  madness.  When  the  popular  enthusiasm  was 
roused  it  began  to  overflow  in  tumultuous  fashion,  involv- 
ing the  retiring  secretary  of  the  British  Embassy  in  a 
situation  not  the  most  comfortable.  Escape  from  it  was 
agreeable  to  Rousseau  himself  as  well  as  to  Hume,  and 
early  in  January  1766,  the  now  miserable  object  of 
popular  admiration,  passes  away  from  the  view  of  the 
excited  Parisians,  under  the  friendly  guidance  of  ‘ the  Great 
David.’  Hume’s  judgment  of  his  unfortunate  protege  is 
very  favourable,  and  his  compassion  for  him  deep.  ‘ I find 
him  mild  and  gentle,  and  modest  and  good  humoured  ’ ; 

‘ his  judgment  and  affections  are  as  strongly  biassed  in  my 
favour  as  mine  are  in  his.’  Those  who  knew  well  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  author  of  Emile  warned  Hume  that  he 
‘ could  not  conduct  him  to  Calais  without  a quarrel.’  But 
the  warm-hearted  friend  discredited  such  evil  prognostica- 
tions, and  writes — ‘ I think  I could  live  with  him  all  my 
life  in  mutual  friendship  and  esteem.  I am  very  sorry 
that  the  matter  is  not  likely  to  be  put  to  trial ! ’ (Burton, 
II.,  310). 

These  two  fast  friends  arrived  in  London  in  safety. 
Rousseau  became  the  object  of  popular  interest,  and  was 
welcomed  by  many  of  high  rank.  By  the  intervention  of 
Hume,  he  received  a pension  from  the  King,  and  besides 
this,  Hume  succeeded  in  awakening  a lively  interest  in  the 
French  genius  in  the  heart  of  his  friend,  Mr  Davenport 
of  Davenport,  who  generously  placed  at  Rousseau’s  com- 
mand as  a dwelling,  ‘ the  mansion  of  Wooton,  in  Derby- 


DAVID  HUME 


iSi 

shire,  surrounded  by  scenery  not  unlike  that  which  he  had 
left  behind  him  in  the  Jura.’  All  was  accomplished  that 
Hume  had  foreshadowed,  and  in  a manner  as  exact  as  if 
the  whole  had  been  arranged  in  the  routine  of  ordinary 
business,  with  resources  ample.  If  surroundings  can  make 
the  future,  all  is  in  proper  course.  But  Rousseau  is  only  a 
silent  volcano ; woe  betide  all  concerned  when  the  lava 
bursts  forth  ! A favourable  retreat  has  been  found  for  the 
great  genius,  before  whom  ‘Voltaire  and  everybody  else 
are  quite  eclipsed.’  Hume  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  his 
success,  as  the  friend  who  had  cleared  the  way  out  of  a 
forest  of  troubles.  But  what  of  the  restless,  tumultuous 
nature  in  ‘the  mansion  of  Wooton,’  accustomed  to  out- 
bursts of  popular  applause,  and  also  to  deep  and  troubled 
brooding  over  his  miseries?  He  is  an  utter  stranger  in 
the  land,  comparatively  unfamiliar  with  the  language  of 
the  people  around,  who  did  not  at  all  understand  him. 
He  begins  to  feel  himself  as  one  banished  from  his  own 
land,  a dead  ocean  all  around  him,  and  not  even  a ripple 
of  applause  breaking  at  his  feet,  not  a sound  of  sympathy 
falling  on  his  ear.  He  is  a man  withal  who  ‘ writes  and 
speaks,  and  acts  from  the  impulse  of  genius,  and  who 
forgets  its  force  when  it  is  laid  asleep,’  weaker  then  than 
common  mortals,  quickly  roused  to  jealousy  and  suspicion, 
the  victim  of  distorted  fancies ; feeling  now  as  one  chilled 
by  heartless  neglect,  and  again  wincing  under  acute  pain 
as  one  who  has  been  scourged  with  scorpions.  What  is  a 
quiet  dwelling  ? what  is  a peaceful  neighbourhood  to  him  ? 
Who  is  Hume  that  he  should  shape  his  cause,  and  arrange 
for  him  in  all  things,  as  if  he  were  incapable  ? What  is 
the  pension  of  the  King  of  Britain  to  an  illustrious  French- 


152 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


man  ? Hume,  his  professed  friend,  is  a traitor,  in  secret 
collusion  with  all  his  foes  who  mock  at  his  calamities. 
As  for  himself,  he  has  been  deluded,  caught  like  a fox  in 
a trap,  and  appointed  to  death.  If  he  has  as  much 
strength  in  him  as  to  make  an  effort,  he  will  effect  his 
escape,  and  pass  away  from  the  gaze  of  the  English 
eye,  and  the  control  of  English  hands.  Suddenly  he 
takes  to  flight,  as  if  all  were  reality,  his  wrath  blazing 
specially  against  Hume.  He  flees  from  place  to  place ; 
writes  from  a halting  place  to  the  general  commanding 
the  forces  to  warn  him  that  if  he  be  secretly  assassinated, 
the  deed  will  be  found  out ; but  if  he  is  allowed  to  escape, 
and  lands  once  more  on  French  soil,  he  will  be  forgiving, 
and  will  not  publish  an  account  of  the  wrongs  perfidious 
Albion  has  done  to  one  of  France’s  most  notable  sons. 

To  Hume  the  occurrence  was  matter  of  overwhelming 
concern ; when  Rousseau’s  angry  denunciations  came  to 
him,  he  was  stung  to  the  quick,  and  resented  them  with 
fiery  indignation  as  if  they  were  the  words  of  a sane  man. 
Even  after  the  flight  had  been  traced  stage  by  stage,  after 
the  extravagant  fears  of  the  wanderer  were  known,  Hume 
could  not  be  calm — could  not  take  the  advice  of  Adam 
Smith,  to  write  nothing.  He  retorts  with  unrestrained 
indignation  to  Rousseau.  He  is  so  disturbed  that  he 
writes  in  all  directions  to  friends  at  home,  and  to  friends 
in  France,  to  vindicate  himself  from  the  charge  of  false- 
heartedness. The  large  mass  of  correspondence  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh,  shews  how  deeply 
and  sorely  he  was  troubled,  as  if  all  that  he  held  dear  had 
been  suddenly  wrenched  from  his  grasp,  leaving  him  a 
suspected,  if  not  a discredited  man.  One  needs  to  re- 


DAVID  HUME 


iS3 

member  how  deeply,  and  very  tenderly,  Hume  had  felt 
in  his  sympathy  for  Rousseau ; and,  on  the  other  hand, 
how  much  the  occurrence  had  become  the  theme  of 
continued  remark  in  society,  British  and  French;  in 
order  to  understand  the  tumult  of  disturbed  feeling 
rushing  through  the  heart  of  Hume.  The  quiet, 
strong  words  of  a true  and  sagacious  friend  were  lost 
upon  him.  He  felt  as  one  feels  who  thinks  and  feels 
and  repeats  that  he  ‘ does  well  to  be  angry.’ 

The  worst  storm  stills  at  length.  The  friends  irritated 
and  alienated,  if  they  could  not  be  reconciled,  grew  calm, 
and  took  in  the  situation.  The  enmity  between  them  was 
a bitter  experience  for  both,  leaving  pitiful  wreckage  along 
the  shore.  This  is  the  expression  of  quieter  reflection 
which  Rousseau  penned : — ‘ My  soul,  wearied  with  so 
many  shocks,  was  in  a condition  of  such  profound 
melancholy,  that  in  all  that  passed  I believe  I com- 
mitted many  faults.’  Hume  proves  equally  ready  to 
acknowledge  his  regret  to  Adam  Smith,  on  17  th 
October  1767,  saying,  after  a review  of  the  occur- 
rence : — ‘ I may  apologise  for  a step,  which  you,  and 
even  myself,  have  been  inclined  sometimes  to  blame, 
and  always  to  regret’  (M.S.,  R.S.E. — Burton,  II.,  380). 

Hume  once  more,  though  only  for  a brief  period,  passed 
into  the  service  of  Government.  In  February  1767,  Mr 
Conway  nominated  him  as  Under-Secretary,  in  which 
office  he  continued  until  the  change  of  Government  in 
July  1768.  Hume  was  assigned  to  the  Northern 
Province,  under  which  were  included  our  relations  with 
Prussia,  Russia,  Austria,  Hamburg  and  Brussels.  At 
this  time  he  must  besides  have  had  much  to  say  as  to 


154 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


Scotch  affairs.  Of  this  time  he  says  : — ‘ My  way  of  life 
here  is  very  uniform,  and  by  no  means  disagreeable.  I 
pass  all  the  forenoon  in  the  Secretary’s  house  from  ten  till 
three,  where  there  arrive  from  time  to  time  messengers 
that  bring  me  all  the  secrets  of  the  Kingdom,  and  indeed 
of  Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  America.’  ‘ My  Chief  is  the 
most  reasonable,  equal  tempered,  and  gentleman-like  man 
imaginable.’  With  change  of  Government  he  passed  from 
his  agreeable  post,  and  prepared  to  return  to  Edinburgh, 
there  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days.  He  says  in 
My  Own  Life  ‘I  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  1769,  very 
opulent  (for  I possessed  a revenue  of  ^1000  a-year), 
healthy,  and  though  somewhat  stricken  in  years,  with  the 
prospect  of  enjoying  long  my  ease,  and  of  seeing  the 
increase  of  my  reputation.’  He  was  now  nearly  sixty 
years  of  age.  He  entered  again  on  occupancy  of  his 
familiar  home  in  St  James’s  Court,  in  the  Lawnmarket ; 
and  from  his  lofty  perch,  looking  across  the  Firth  of 
Forth  to  the  Fife  Coast,  he  writes  to  Adam  Smith  : — 
‘ I am  glad  to  have  come  within  sight  of  you,  and  to 
have  a view  of  Kirkcaldy  from  my  windows.’  He  forth- 
with settled  quietly  into  his  familiar  ways ; shortly  after- 
wards, writing  to  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  he  says : — ‘ I have 
been  settled  here  two  months,  and  am  here  body  and 
soul,  without  casting  the  least  thought  of  regret  to 
London,  or  even  to  Paris.’  He  continued  in  the  old 
house  for  about  a year,  while  the  building  of  his  new 
house  was  being  carried  forward,  after  which  he  removed 
to  his  home,  at  the  head  of  St  David  Street,  where  he 
spent  his  few  remaining  years — where,  when  inroads  of 
disease  had  brought  him  low,  he  had  his  last  dinner- 


DAVID  HUME 


x55 


party  of  friends  on  the  day  after  his  return  from  Bath, 
and  where  he  died  only  a few  weeks  thereafter.  These 
closing  years  were  spent  very  pleasantly  in  the  midst  of 
the  circle  of  familiar  friends.  He  did  not  continue  to 
write  letters  so  freely  as  he  had  been  wont  to  do ; but 
his  interest  in  the  whole  circle  of  philosophical,  historical, 
and  political  questions  continued  lively  and  keen  as  in  the 
earlier  years ; and  he  enjoyed,  with  all  the  well-known  zest, 
unrestrained  talk  and  discussion  among  familiar  friends. 

In  the  early  part  of  1775,  Hume  began  to  own  that 
some  sense  of  failing  health  had  crept  over  him,  and  had 
been  growing  for  several  years  previously.  Disease  had 
not  yet  assumed  definite  form,  but  constitutional  predis- 
position was  preparing  the  way.  He  noted  this  as  a warn- 
ing of  the  coming  end,  and  now  began  to  include  in  his 
plans  arrangements  preparatory.  He  placed  himself  under 
the  care  of  his  medical  adviser,  Dr  Black,  who  took  a 
serious  view  of  his  complaint ; he  prepared  instructions  as 
to  disposal  of  his  papers,  specially  expressing  solicitude  as 
to  the  publication  of  the  Dialogues  Concerning  Religion , 
and  carried  through  a considerable  correspondence  on  this 
matter,  when  his  friend  Adam  Smith  indicated  reluctance 
to  pledge  himself  to  carry  out  his  purpose. 

Between  the  spring  of  1775  and  that  of  the  following 
year  the  disease  had  made  considerable  progress.  Hume 
writes  thus  in  My  Own  Life  as  to  this  period,  consider- 
ing his  disorder  had  ‘ become  mortal  and  incurable.’  ‘ I 
now  reckon  on  a speedy  dissolution.  I have  suffered  very 
little  pain  from  my  disorder ; and,  what  is  more  strange, 
have,  notwithstanding  the  great  decline  of  my  person, 
never  suffered  a moment’s  abatement  of  my  spirits ; inso- 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


iS6 

much  that  were  I to  name  the  period  of  my  life  which  I 
should  most  choose  to  pass  over  again,  I might  be  tempted 
to  point  to  this  latter  period.  I possess  the  same  ardour 
as  ever  in  study,  and  the  same  gaiety  in  company.  I 
consider,  besides,  that  a man  of  sixty-five,  by  dying  cuts 
off  only  a few  years  of  infirmities  ; and  though  I see  many 
symptoms  of  my  literary  reputation’s  breaking  out  at  last 
with  additional  lustre,  I know  that  I could  have  but  few 
years  to  enjoy  it.  It  is  difficult  to  be  more  detached  from 
life  than  I am  at  present.’ 

When  in  April  1776  symptoms  of  rapidly  declining 
strength  had  appeared,  Dr  Black  wrote  to  Adam  Smith, 
who  was  then  in  London,  where  also  John  Home  was, 
urging  him  to  come  to  Edinburgh.  ‘ I wish,  if  possible, 
to  hasten  your  coming,  that  he  may  have  the  comfort  of 
your  company  so  much  the  sooner.’  Adam  Ferguson 
wrote  to  the  same  effect,  saying, — ‘ David,  I am  afraid, 
loses  ground.’  Smith  and  Home  set  off  together  about 
the  middle  of  April,  hoping  to  meet  the  doctor’s  wishes, 
and  give  some  comfort  in  the  closing  days.  At  the  same 
time,  a reverse  course  was  planned  by  Hume,  on  account 
of  the  suggestion  that  a visit  to  Bath  might  prove  bene- 
ficial. His  Autobiography  had  been  finished  just  two  days, 
when  he  wrote  to  Strahan,  20th  April  1776, — ‘My  body 
sets  out  to-morrow  by  post  for  London ; but  whether  it 
will  arrive  there  is  somewhat  uncertain.  I shall  travel  by 
slow  journeys.  Last  Monday  I sent  off  by  the  waggon, 
directed  to  Mr  Cadel,  the  four  last  volumes  of  my  History. 
I bring  up  my  philosophical  Pieces  corrected,  which  will 
be  safe,  whether  I die  by  the  road  or  not  ’ ( Letters  to 
Strahan , G.  B.  Hill,  p.  319). 


DAVID  HUME 


157 


Very  fortunately  for  the  invalid  traveller,  his  two  friends, 
Adam  Smith  and  John  Home,  met  him  at  Morpeth,  where 
they  saw  * his  servant,  Colin,  at  the  gate  of  the  inn.’  They 
had  reached  their  friend  sooner  than  they  had  expected, 
and  spent  the  night  with  him.  Adam  Smith  there  received 
tidings  of  the  serious  illness  of  his  mother,  and  had  to 
hasten  forward  to  Kirkcaldy.  John  Home  went  with 
Hume,  going  by  Durham,  Darlington,  Boroughbridge, 
Northallerton,  and  Ferrybridge.  After  resting  at  London, 
he  proceeded  to  Bath,  where  during  the  first  four  days  he 
seemed  to  improve,  but  he  soon  relapsed  to  the  former 
condition,  when  he  resolved  on  the  return  journey,  arriving 
in  Edinburgh  in  the  beginning  of  July. 

In  August,  Adam  Smith  writes,  ‘ Mr  Hume’s  magna- 
nimity and  firmness  were  such,  that  his  most  affectionate 
friends  knew  that  they  hazarded  nothing  in  talking  or 
writing  to  him  as  to  a dying  man,  and  that  so  far  from 
being  hurt  by  this  frankness,  he  was  rather  pleased  and 
flattered  by  it.’ 

Hume  himself,  five  days  before  his  death,  writing  to  the 
Comtesse  de  Boufflers,  says : — ‘ I see  death  approach 
gradually,  without  any  anxiety  or  regret.’ 

On  the  23rd  August  he  writes  to  Smith,  who  had  gone 
to  Kirkcaldy : — ‘ My  Dearest  Friend, — I am  obliged  to 
make  use  of  my  nephew’s  hand  in  writing  to  you,  as  I 
do  not  rise  to-day.  . . . 

* I go  very  fast  to  decline,  and  last  night  had  a small 
fever,  which  I hoped  might  put  a quicker  period  to  this 
tedious  illness ; but,  unluckily,  it  has,  in  a great  measure, 
gone  off.  I cannot  submit  to  your  coming  over  here  on 
my  account,  as  it  is  possible  for  me  to  see  you  so  small  a 


FAMOUS  SCOTS 


*58 

part  of  the  day ; but  Doctor  Black  can  better  inform  you 
concerning  the  degree  of  strength  which  may,  from  time 
to  time,  remain  with  me.  Adieu.’ 

The  letter  from  the  doctor  is  dated  ' Edinburgh, 
26th  August  1776’  (Burton,  II.,  p.  515),  and  runs  as 
follows  : — 

‘ Dear  Sir, — Yesterday,  about  four  o’clock,  afternoon^ 
Mr  Hume  expired.  The  near  approach  of  his  death 
became  evident  in  the  night  between  Thursday  and 
Friday,  when  his  disease  became  excessive,  and  soon 
weakened  him  so  much  that  he  could  no  longer  rise  out 
of  his  bed.  . . . He  never  dropped  the  smallest  expres- 
sion of  impatience ; but,  when  he  had  occasion  to  speak 
to  the  people  about  him,  always  did  it  with  affection  and 
tenderness.  . . . When  he  became  very  weak,  it  cost  him 
an  effort  to  speak ; and  he  died  in  such  a happy  com- 
posure of  mind  that  nothing  could  exceed  it.’ 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS  ON  THE 
“FAMOUS  SCOTS”  SERIES. 

Of  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  by  George  Saintsbury, 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  says  : — 

“ Mr  Saintsbury’s  miniature  is  a gem  of  its  kind.  . . . Mr  Saintsbury’s  critique 
of  the  Waverley  Novels  will,  I venture  to  think,  despite  all  that  has  been  written 
upon  them,  discover  fresh  beauties  for  their  admirers.” 

Of  THOMAS  CARLYLE,  by  H.  C.  Macpherson, 

The  Literary  World  says  : — 

“ One  of  the  very  best  little  books  on  Carlyle  yet  written,  far  out-weighing  in 
value  some  more  pretentious  works  with  which  we  are  familiar.” 

Of  ALLAN  RAMSAY,  by  Oliphant  Smeaton, 

The  Scotsman  says  : — 

“It  is  not  a patchwork  picture,  but  one  in  which  the  writer,  taking  genuine 
interest  in  his  subject,  and  bestowing  conscientious  pains  on  his  task,  has  his 
materials  well  in  hand,  and  has  used  them  to  produce  a portrait  that  is  both  life- 
like  and  well  balanced.” 

Of  HUGH  MILLER,  by  W.  Keith  Lease, 

The  Expository  Times  says  : — 

“ It  is  a right  good  book  and  a right  true  biography.  . . . There  is  a very  fine 
sense  of  Hugh  Miller’s  greatness  as  a man  and  a Scotsman  ; there  is  also  a fine 
choice  of  language  in  making  it  ours." 

Of  JOHN  KNOX,  by  A.  Taylor  Innes, 

Mr  Hay  Fleming  in  the  Bookman  says  : — 

“A  masterly  delineation  of  those  stirring  times  in  Scotland,  and  of  that  famous 
Scot  who  helped  so  much  to  shape  them.” 

Of  ROBERT  BURNS,  by  Gabriel  Setoun, 

The  New  Age  says  : — 

“ It  is  the  best  thing  on  Bums  we  have  yet  had,  almost  as  good  as  Carlyle’s 
Essay  and  the  pamphlet  published  by  Dr  Nichol  of  Glasgow." 

Of  THE  BALLADISTS,  by  John  Geddie, 

The  Spectator  says  : — 

“The  author  has  certainly  made  a contribution  of  remarkable  value  to  the 
literary  history,  of  Scotland.  We  do  not  know  of  a book  in  which  the  subject  has 
been  treated  with  deeper  sympathy  or  out  of  a fuller  knowledge.” 

Of  RICHARD  CAMERON,  by  Professor  Herkless, 

The  Dundee  Courier  says  : — 

“ In  selecting  Professor  Herkless  to  prepare  this  addition  to  the  ‘ Famous  Scots 
Series’  of  books,  the  publishers  have  made  an  excellent  choice.  The  vigorous, 
manly  style  adopted  is  exactly  suited  to  the  subject,  and  Richard  Cameron  is 
presented  to  the  reader  in  a manner  as  interesting  as  it  is  impressive.  . . . 
Professor  Herkless  has  done  remarkably  well,  and  the  portrait  he  has  so  cleverly 
delineated  of  one  of  Scotland’s  most  cherished  heroes  is  one  that  will  never  fade.” 


Press  Opinions  on  “Famous  Scots”  Series— continued 


Of  SIR  JAMES  YOUNG  SIMPSON,  by  Eve  Blantyre 
Simpson, 

The  Daily  Chrosiicle  says  : — 

“ It  is  indeed  long  since  we  have  read  such  a charmingly-written  biography  as 
this  little  Life  of  the  most  typical  and  1 Famous  Scot  ’ that  his  countrymen  have 
been  proud  of  since  the  time  of  Sir  Walter.  . . . There  is  not  a dull,  irrelevant,  or 
superfluous  page  in  all  Miss  Simpson’s  booklet,  and  she  has  performed  the 
biographer’s  chief  duty — that  of  selection — with  consummate  skill  and  judgment.” 

Of  THOMAS  CHALMERS,  by  W.  Garden  Blaikie, 

The  Spectator  says  : — 

“ The  most  notable  feature  of  Professor  Blaikie's  book — and  none  could  be  more 
commendable — is  its  perfect  balance  and  proportion.  In  other  words,  justice  is 
done  equally  to  the  private  and  to  the  public  life  of  Chalmers,  if  possible  greater 
justice  than  has  been  done  by  Mrs  Oliphant.” 

Of  JAMES  BOSWELL,  by  W.  Keith  Leask, 

The  Morning  Leader  says  : — 

“ Mr  W.  K.  Leask  has  approached  the  biographer  of  Johnson  in  the  only  possible 
way  by  which  a really  interesting  book  could  have  been  arrived  at — by  way  of  the 
open  mind.  . . . The  defence  of  Boswell  in  the  concluding  chapter  of  his  delightful 
study  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most  convincing  passages  that  have  recently  appeared 
in  the  field  of  British  biography.” 

Of  TOBIAS  SMOLLETT,  by  Oliphant  Smeaton, 

The  Weekly  Scotsman  says  : — 

“The  book  is  written  in  a crisp  and  lively  style.  . . . The  picture  of  the  great 
novelist  is  complete  and  lifelike.  Not  only  does  Mr  Smeaton  give  a scholarly 
sketch  and  estimate  of  Smollett’s  literary  career,  he  constantly  keeps  the  reader  in 
conscious  touch  and  sympathy  with  his  personality,  and  produces  a portrait  of  the 
man  as  a man  which  is  not  likely  to  be  readily  forgotten.” 

Of  FLETCHER  OF  SALTOUN,  by  W.  G.  T.  OMOND, 
The  Leeds  Mercury  says  : — 

“ Unmistakably  the  most  interesting  and  complete  story  of  the  life  of  Fletcher  of 
Saltoun  that  has  yet  appeared.  Mr  Omond  has  had  many  facilities  placed  at  his 
disposal,  and  of  these  he  has  made  excellent  use.” 

Of  THE  BLACKWOOD  GROUP,  by  Sir  George  Douglas, 

The  Weekly  Citizen  says  : — 

“ It  need  not  be  said  that  to  everyone  interested  in  the  literature  of  the  first  half 
of  the  century,  and  especially  to  every  Scotsman  so  interested,  ‘ The  Blackwood 
Group’  is  a phrase  abounding  in  promise.  And  really  Sir  George  Douglas  fulfils 
the  promise  he  tacitly  makes  in  his  title.  He  is  intimately  acquainted  not  only 
with  the  books  of  the  different  members  of  the  ‘group,’  but  also  with  their  environ- 
ment, social  and  otherwise.  Besides,  he  writes  with  sympathy  as  well  as  know- 
ledge.” 

Of  NORMAN  MACLEOD,  by  John  Wellwood, 

The  Star  says  : — 

11 A worthy  addition  to  the  ‘ Famous  Scots  Series’  is  that  of  Norman  Macleod, 
the  renowned  minister  of  the  Barony  in  Glasgow,  and  a man  as  typical  of  every- 
thing generous  and  broadminded  in  the  State  Church  in  Scotland  as  Thomas 
Guthrie  was  in  the  Free  Churches.  The  biography  is  the  work  of  John  Wellwood, 
who  has  approached  it  with  proper  appreciation  of  the  robustness  of  the  subject.” 


